


The Runespoor

by HolaImOla



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Banter, Curses, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hogwarts Professors, LLF Comment Project, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Magical Creatures, Mystery, Plotty, Slow Burn, Teachers, but they try to be serious, ill add more tags one day maybe, or i want it to be, theyre soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-29 14:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolaImOla/pseuds/HolaImOla
Summary: As much as Aziraphale Fell knew that there was no such thing as a peaceful year at Hogwarts, he had secretly hoped that the first year of him as a teacher would be at least relatively calm.Seeing how the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher might be the most secretive person in the world, one of the first years keeps disappearing, and there are more and more cases of people getting mysteriously hurt, he could come to one conclusion.That yeah, no, it wasn't going to be calm and not dangerous at all.





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I'm rewatching Harry Potter and I caved in to write some Hogwarts AU, sooooo... Ineffable Husbands as professors!  
I'm still kinda torn between making the whole story from Azi's POV or switching between him and Adam, guess we'll see what I decided in the next chapters huh :'))  
Also Hogwarts professor Aziraphale is just a fat owl, but like, personified. No, I do not take constructive criticism on that.

Aziraphale Fell stood in front of the main entrance of Hogwarts, taking in the sight of the castle in the red light of sunset. He had expected coming back there (after all, there isn't much one can do in the Wizarding World after spending years living around muggles), but he definitely did not predict being asked to work as a teacher (he saw himself more as the librarian, to be honest).

Especially History of Magic teacher. After all, it seemed like professor Binns would be teaching it until the end of times (since he was, well, a ghost), but it turned out that by the end of last year he politely stated that he "deserved some actual rest after dying".

Aziraphale gripped his leather briefcase tighter in his hand (the rest of his baggage was supposed to be either in the Great Hall or in some corridor; the explanation of that wasn't quite clear) and started walking towards the entrance, trying to seem as confident as he possibly could.

He wouldn't consider himself an expert in history of magic (definitely nowhere near Binns' level), but he also was one of very few people who were genuinely interested in the subject, both during and after their Hogwarts education. He did remember the overwhelming dullness of the class (personally he quite enjoyed the atmosphere, but then again, multiple people told him he enjoyed dull things), and hoped to make his take on the subject more enjoyable. Then again, how could one make a completely theoretical subject interesting for generally uninterested students?

His thoughts were abruptly disturbed by a loud screech of a brown owl which moments later landed on his shoulder.

"There you are, Agnes." he said softly as the bird nuzzled at his neck affectionately.

"Your cage is with the rest of my baggage, I'm afraid." he whispered, stroking the brown feathers. The owl stared at him for a moment with its' big, intelligent eyes, before flying away again. As Aziraphale stared at its' shape getting smaller and smaller, he had a heartwarming thought that at least he wouldn't be completely alone.

As he reached his hand to knock on the large doors, the entrance opened by itself.

"Hello, Aziraphale, long time no see." said a familiar voice belonging to a tall witch who stood a few feet behind the door.

"Madam McGonagall!" although he smiled, Aziraphale felt anxiety creeping on his shoulder and consuming him entirely.

Was he presentable enough for the first meeting in his new workplace? He did try picking his best clothes, which was a challenge since he spent past few years not really leaving the house and wearing mostly comfortable sweaters. Was his coat creased in any place? Was his bowtie crooked? He silently prayed he didn't leave any food stains on his trousers, but checking it now would have been rather awkward.

"It's been a while indeed." he said while shaking her hand.

The last time he had actually seen and talked with her face-to-face was the day he graduated Hogwarts, which was quite some time (and a good few pounds) ago.

"There's no need to refer to me so formally anymore. We're coworkers now, you can call me Minerva." She smiled and turned around "Follow me."

She started walking down the corridor, and Aziraphale had to put quite an effort to go her pace. Not only was she over a head taller than him, her walk was quite energetic, forcing Aziraphale to jog to keep up. He looked around curiously. After the big Battle of Hogwarts he honestly didn't know what to expect from the castle to look like, but all that he's seen so far looked exactly like it did back in his school days. All the same tall ceilings, walls covered in moving paintings, huge windows that seemed to additionally enhance the grandness of the castle, nothing changed. The only actual difference from his school memories was that right now all the halls were empty, with only their footsteps echoing through the air.

"All of your baggage is already waiting for you by your office." Said McG- Minerva. Aziraphale nodded quickly, silently praying for her to at least slow down at the stairs.

"Th-that's great-" he huffed out of breath.

"Your office will be the room behind the History of Magic classroom." She may have gotten his silent protests, because she did slow down while explaining. "The staff has collectively decided to turn Binns' old office into a room for students to practice duels in."

Aziraphale nodded again in relief. Not only did the previous distance of three floors between his classroom and office not seem too appealing, the idea of living, and breathing, and sleeping, in a room of a dead person gave him shivers.

"We also decided not to empty his classroom, since you might enjoy some of the books professor Binns has collected over the years." Minerva continued. "If you find some you may not need though, you can hand them over to the library."

Aziraphale nodded once again. He felt dumber and dumber, not finding any better responses than "Okay" or "Great".

They finally stopped in front of the classroom 4F. All of his luggage, along with an empty owl cage were neatly stacked next to the wooden doors, and from the first glance alone it seemed like nothing was missing.

"You still have a few more days to get accustomed before the students arrive." McGonagall said before turning around.

Aziraphale would turn around and go inside too, but he remembered one more thing he wanted to ask before.

"I, uh, have one more question." he finally gathered some courage.

"Is it about the library?"

"Yes." When he originally replied to their letter asking for him to work at school, he added that he might be some help to the library, after all, he spent past few years working in one. He didn't think anyone would remember or even care about his request, though.

"I've talked with Madam Pince. She said that if you're really willing to work there, you might take care of it during the winter break." Minerva was turned the way that he couldn't see her face, but a smile was prominent in her voice.

"Oh, that's lovely!" Aziraphale basically gleamed. He grabbed his bags and pushed them inside. "Quite tickety-boo." he couldn't stop grinning. "Good night, Lady Mc- Minerva!" he grinned wider, entered the classroom, and shut the door behind him. Luckily for him, he didn't see nor hear McGonagall mocking the _'tickety-boo_' under her breath.

Once by himself, overjoyed Aziraphale allowed himself to even jump a little. He was going to be taking care of the Hogwarts library during Christmas! That meant two wonderful things- number one: he'd have a perfect reason to politely decline visiting his family during the break, and number two: he was in charge of the library when most students were absent, meaning it was going to be just him and the books for most of the time.

Amazing. Wonderful. Perfect.

He quickly strode through the classroom to his new office and glanced around the still empty room.

"Welcome home." he said to himself before taking his wand out to unpack all of his belongings.


	2. The Boy Who Missed A Year Of School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! The chapter turned out to be a bit longer than I originally planned, so it also took longer to write!  
this one is Adam's POV; I'm not yet sure if it's gonna switch every other chapter, but I do wanna have some perspective of the students   
(((also to everyone starving for Azi/Crowley, there's more of them very soon I promise)))

As uneventful as Adam Young's summer was, the very last few days of it definitely made it all worth it.

And all of it started with a letter. A similar one had come a year earlier, but well, his parents hadn't really taken it too seriously then.

~~~~~~~~~~

_Arthur Young stared at the letters in his hand in confusion. Most of them were various bills or advertisements, except for one, addressed to his son, Adam. Just that alone would make any adult raise their eyebrows- why would an eleven year old get a traditional letter in a fancy envelope?- but the exact address, not just the street name, but a very specific "The bedroom on the ground floor", was the most suspicious part._

_"Hey, Adam?" he sat down by the kitchen table. Adam glanced up from his cereal. "Did you sign up to any camp without letting us know first?"_

_The boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion._

_"Why would I? You'd find out anyway." he shrugged._

_"Can you explain to me what is this, then?'_

_Adam took the letter his dad held out and examined it closely. He opened the envelope and pulled out a page; another one fell on the table._

_"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" He read out loud, then looked up at Mr. Young again. "I've got no idea what it could mean." He went back to reading it again silently, and chuckled after a moment._

_" 'Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.' My owl? It has to be some prank, dad."_

_They both read the two pages, and while Adam thought they were cool, Mr. Young decided (after shoving the letters to his wife) to upgrade the security system around their house._

_Adam decided to keep his eyes and ears open to anything that could indicate the existence of witchcraft and wizardry, but anytime he'd point out something peculiar ("Mum, I swear, this cat was a lady earlier!", "Dad, I'm not joking, I made my desk float like some kind of Jedi!") his parent would usually say that he's got some brilliant imagination, but maybe he should focus on his homework._

~~~~~~~~~~

It all changed when by the end of the summer someone loudly thumped at their door.

"Oh lord." whispered Deirdre Young after opening it and seeing who was standing outside.

"'m not a lord, jus' the gamekeeper." the giant in front of her answered. His dark eyes, sparkling under his messy hair looked around the room; when he finally noticed Adam, he smiled widely.

"Yer Adam, huh?" He pointed his large hand at the boy, who could just blink at him (Adam started wondering if he maybe had hit his head recently).

"Excuse me, who the hell are you?" Mr. Young stood up, ready to _try_ to kick the strange man out of their house.

"Ah, yes," said strange man replied. "Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper of Hogwarts School. Adam here was- Well- Last Year- Overlooked." he stumbled on his words.

"Overlooked?" asked Mr. and Mrs. Young at the same time Adam said "Hogwarts?"

"You know what is he talking about?" Mrs. Young turned to him.

"Isn't that where the weird letter came from last year?"

The strange tall man (how should Adam call him? Hagrid? Mr. Hagrid?") laughed and clapped his hands.

"Yes!" he grinned, but the smile quickly faded away. "So, ye. Saw that he read it an' overlooked. Didn't notice it got thrown away. Yer no Harry Potter after all. We don't send thousands of letters to everyone."

Adam _felt_ like what was just said should offend him, but honestly he didn't understand most of whatever the man meant.

Seeing how all three Youngs stared at him in confusion, Hagrid cleared his throat, squeezed between them into the living room and sat on the couch.

"Guess you'll need some longer explanation." he mumbled before taking a pink umbrella from his coat.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Diagon Alley was unlike anything Adam had seen in the non-magical (muggle? was that the word?) world. All the buildings looking different from one another, every one had a different colour and shape. They seemed unorganized, some extending further into the street then others, and yet it felt like there was a method to this madness.

The street was crowded, too. Adam and Hagrid squeezed between many wizards, all of them dressed in weird robes, some with fancy hats, others with unusual animals on their shoulders, talking about things Adam didn't know about (but he so wished he did).

Apparently the entire street was destroyed in the last Wizarding War, but one couldn't really tell that from looking at it.

Adam guessed that's what magic was for, after all.

After Hagrid had initially explained everything about magic, Adam's parents still weren't convinced. It took letting them speak to a bunch of other wizards through their fireplace to finally agree to let the boy go to the wizarding world. They also insisted on Adam sending them a message as soon as possible, as well as him coming back home on the first break. And they were extremely relieved upon learning that he wasn't allowed to use magic at home.

Adam personally thought that the "no-magic" rule was rubbish- after all, he was forbidden from doing magic at all one whole year more than the rest of the students, so he should've gotten some special law to allow him to do some spells during the holidays.

He glanced down into his pocket, where he had his letter and some money his mum gave him (while still whispering how she "didn't like this whole magic thing").

"So what do we do first?" he asked.

"First, we go ter Gringotts Bank."

"Gringotts Bank?"

"We need ter change yer muggle money." Hagrid pointed at the snowy white building that stood in the middle of the street. It was surprisingly elegant, sticking out in the mismatched shops; still, the bank wasn't standing exactly straight- it seemed as if it was bent in the middle. On their way to the Diagon Alley Hagrid explained that the bank has been destroyed as well, although, just as the rest of the street, it appeared to be completely fine (apart from the obvious fact that it was bent, of course).

They went up the stairs and through the door, into the entrance hall. While Hagrid seemed pretty unbothered, Adam stared around in awe, trying to engrave every detail in his brain, as if it was all just a dream he'd wake up from.

"Also," Hagrid started as he lowered himself. "The bank's run by goblins." he whispered.

"Goblins?" Adam repeated louder, but Hagrid hushed him.

They entered the main hall, a large room with numerous goblins working on the sides of it. Majority of it was empty, just one man quietly arguing with a goblin by a desk. Although they both were whispering, every word could be heard in the silent bank hall.

"-thisss isss important!" the man basically hissed (he literally stretched the 's' sounds). He was tall and thin, dressed in black, form-fitting robes with silver embroidery that reminded Adam of snakes; his red hair was ruffled and he was wearing black opaque glasses, which covered his eyes completely.

The goblin sitting behind the desk looked downright pissed.

"I repeat, I'm afraid I'm going to need more proof, sir." he muttered back.

The man swore under his breath, threw his hands angrily into the air, turned around and quickly left, slamming the door behind himself, his dark robe waving like some creepy wings.

"That's professor Crowley." Hagrid muttered so that only Adam could hear. "He'll be yer teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Adam stared at the door.

"Seems pleasant." he said, already afraid of the lessons.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of the day, Adam had bought almost everything, only missing his robes.

He entered the Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions alone, since Hagrid told him he'd wait in the Leaky Cauldron. As he carefully looked inside, he heard a boy arguing with a woman, both with a strong American accent.

"You know I don't wanna go to Hogwarts! We should be at home right now, and I should be getting ready to Ilvermorny." Well, that was another weird word Adam hasn't heard before.

"Warlock, we're not having this conversation again." the woman, probably his mother, replied. After that Adam could hear the sounds of her steps, so he assumed she went to pay for the robes.

He inched closer to the center of the shop, finally seeing the other boy face to face. He seemed to be around Adam's age, although probably a year younger (unless there were other _overlooked_ kids this year). Some of his dark hair covered his pale face and he stood with his arms crossed, visibly annoyed. He glared at Adam.

"What are you staring at?" he asked at the same time Adam said "Are you also buying stuff for Hogwarts?"

The boy's expression softened a little. He sighed.

"Yeah. Should've been doing that at home, though." he shrugged. "But I guess I can't do much about it."

He reached his hand out to Adam.

"I'm Warlock. Warlock Dowling."

Adam shook it gently and smiled.

"Adam Young."

"So, what do you think will be your h-" he stopped mid-sentence and looked over Adam's shoulder. His expression went sour again.

"I gotta go, mom's calling." he started walking towards the door, but turned around towards Adam before going outside. "I, er, maybe we'll get sorted to the same house?"

Adam had no idea what did he mean by that.

"Sure..."

"I'll see you on the train!" Warlock shouted from the outside and waved to him.

"Yeah... See you... On the train?" Adam waved back slowly.

On what train?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo what was that Adam's future professor's deal i wonder????


	3. The Library Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the chapters may be more spaced out because it is my final year of hs! I will be trying to update it as often as I can though, since this is probably like my favourite thing to write hehe

The books were stacked on top of each other as Aziraphale carried them to the library. He could just make them levitate by his side, yes, he was in the wizarding world after all. But, well...

But there was a small drawback.

It's not like he didn't have any magical abilities (he showed them for the first time when he was five and set one of his family's oldest souvenirs- a six hundred years old sword- on fire; his mother wasn't pleased, though), or even was out of practice (sure, he did spend some of the past years in the muggle world, but when he was by himself he'd still make his life easier with some cooking and clearing spells).

It was just that right now he was in one building with some of the best wizards in the world, while for him the smallest distraction might cause any spell to not work, and how embarrassing it would be if he failed something as trivial as Wingardium Leviosa in front of, let's say, McGonagall, and _ah_ he was questioning his qualification for a teacher again.

He'd never been amazing at charms. Or self-defense. Or Transfiguration. Or anything that required quick thinking on the spot and working under pressure, _and_ all of that with a wand.

Besides, it was just a few books to carry. He had worked at a muggle library before, he could manage that.

He pushed the door handle with his elbow and opened the door with his leg, carefully balancing to not let his books fall, and walked inside the library.

Just like the rest of Hogwarts, the library looked exactly as Aziraphale remembered it. Shelves full of books stretched out in height and width; the long tables between the sections were basked in warm light from the tall windows. It was so quiet he could hear every creak the floor made as he stepped through, only here, unlike the rest of the castle, the silence felt natural. Aziraphale walked to the librarian's desk as quietly as he could and gently places the books on top of it.

"Hello." he said cheerfully, yet still not daring to raise his voice to more than a whisper.

The librarian- Madam Pince, he recalled- glanced at him critically; her cold stare seemed to be burning a hole through him. Aziraphale shuddered and thought that maybe he should have put on something more formal than his favourite warm sweater--lose coat-like robe combination.

"Mr. Fell," she started. "You're the one trying to deprive me of my job?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. He should have expected her to mention that.

"N-no, it's not that- I was just-" he noticed that Madam Pince chuckled and rolled her eyes at his panicked reaction, so he took a deep breath. "I was told to bring the old Professor Binns' books that I didn't need, so-" he pointed at the stack. "Here they are."

The librarian looked at them, then back at Aziraphale, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead.

"There's only... Five books you don't need to keep?"

"Yes..?" Aziraphale replied slowly. Was this a trick question?

"Out of all hundreds of Binns' books you're giving away _five_?" She repeated.

"W-well, yes. I didn't need those, since I already own either the exact same or newer editions of them, but the rest of the books I felt were crucial for the... research and all."

He could tell what was Madam Pince thinking.

And fine, he saw where she was coming from.

Maybe he didn't need all of those books. Maybe he kept most just for the sake of having more books around. And maybe he had a bit of a hoarding problem.

Maybe.

Madam Pince shook her head, took a quill in her hand and started writing something on a piece of parchment paper.

"I need to mark these as being owned by the library, but I'm going to ask you to put them on the shelves in a moment." She spoke without looking up.

Aziraphale nodded.

"Of course." he watched as she took out her wand, multiplied the parchment so there were five identical pieces of it, and then made them go inside the books.

"They're all in the history section, obviously." she started. "And be careful- I haven't renewed some of the charms, so sometimes you'll have to put them on the higher shelves manually."

"Will do." He replied cheerfully, not noticing that he might have been a tad too loud, grabbed the books, and delved into the history section.

Putting the first one back in place wasn't a problem- the beginning of the history row seemed to have all of the charms fresh as new, so the book flew from his hand up to higher shelves; he watched as it carefully settled between similar volumes, and smiled to himself before going to put the next one in its' spot.

It went about as smoothly- although he could feel that there was no charm taking it from his hand anymore, the free spot for it was pretty much at his eye level, so putting it manually wasn't a problem (he also wondered how did the shelves work with making new free spots for the newly added books- after all they should be all filled to the brim).

The last three books, though. That was when some problems began.

They were supposed to go way higher than the previous one (although lower than the first one, thank God), and so deep in the row there were no charms left. He had to put them up there by himself.

Aziraphale did notice the ladder as he entered the row- but he really didn't like the idea of climbing the old thing (it looked as if it'd fall apart just by being touched). He could, again, try casting some simple spells, but both of his hands were occupied right now, and his wand was deep in the robe pocket (or that was the excuse he had just made up and decided to go with).

So, he did the next best (although kind of childish) thing one could do- stood on his toes and stretched his arm out, wishing he'd been at least _a little_ bit taller (if his brother could somehow be over a head taller than him, then why couldn't Aziraphale be at least the average height, it just seemed unfair).

He leaned against the shelves and tried to put the book on once more, feeling more and more annoyed by every second.

Then, another hand, with long, thin fingers and black polish on the fingernails, grabbed the book and placed it on the shelf gently.

"These two go on the free spot above, huh?"

Aziraphale blinked as the stranger grabbed the other books from his hand and placed them up as well.

"I, uh..." he looked up at their face.

Oh no.

The stranger was taller than him, dressed in dark, tight robes with rich embroidery on the sleeves; round sunglasses covered his eyes, although Aziraphale could clearly see the perched up eyebrows and a gentle smirk on his pointy face. He had sharp cheekbones and seemed to be around Aziraphale's age, but Aziraphale wasn't too sure, since the glasses did cover up his eyes completely. His red hair was a bit messy, and oh no-

Aziraphale hadn't felt like this for a while.

(It was intimidation, of course. That's what he felt. Obviously.)

"Ah, yes. That's where they were supposed to go, indeed. Thank you." He said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, and cleared his throat.

"Wouldn't wanna climb on the ladder either." The stranger chuckled and reached out his hand. "Anthony Crowley."

Crowley. He felt like he had heard this name before.

"Aziraphale. Fell." He quickly shook his hand, hoping the man won't pay attention to his surname. As they shook hands Aziraphale noticed a few dark, scruffy books Anthony was holding in his other hand. He seemed to notice it too and hid them behind his back quickly.

"Your name sounds a bit familiar." Aziraphale started. "Have we perhaps met already?"

The corners of Anthony's lips dropped for a second.

"Oh, I, um, ngk, y'know-" he stumbled on his words a bit. "I'll be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts? Maybe you've heard some gossip from McGonagall? 'Cause I'm guessing you're a teacher too, Mr. Fell?" he raised his eyebrows.

Ah. Of course he'd recognize his surname. Which wizard wouldn't.

"Yes, the History of M-"

"Hey! You two!" he was abruptly cut off by the librarian. "This is library, not a place for small talk!"

Anthony's shoulders dropped.

"'s just like school all again." he mumbled and headed to leave. He turned to Aziraphale, who almost instinctively followed him to the door. "Want me to walk you to your office?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale's office wasn't far, so the walk didn't take very long. During it Crowley managed to ask Aziraphale a bunch of mundane questions (about his job or the books he was returning) while quite obviously avoiding to talk about himself (Aziraphale only found out that he preferred being called Crowley rather than his first name). Aziraphale did know what he was actually curious about, and prepared himself for the question when they reached his classroom.

"So, a Fell, huh?" Crowley tried so hard to sound casual, but the burning curiosity was still heard in his tone. "The _Gryffindors-and-aurors-since-always_ one?"

Aziraphale nodded slowly. "Exactly."

"Buuut, you're definitely a Hogwarts teacher and not an auror." he didn't even need to look up to feel Crowley's stare on him. "Ssooo... something doesn't add up."

Aziraphale played with the door knob, not glancing up.

"Perhaps it's because I wasn't a Gryffindor to begin with." He mumbled.

"It's because _what_?!" He finally looked up at Crowley, who seemed shocked but... positively?

"I mean- Have you ever actually seen a Gryffindor who wasn't Hermione Granger willingly being in a library?" He tried to chuckle, but his throat seemed too dry. "O-of course I'd be in a house that was basically just a library."

"So a Ravenclaw? Man, your family must hate you, huh? I mean-" Crowley quickly realized Aziraphale wasn't exactly proud of that and cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Aziraphale looked down again. "Yeah. But, well, then-" he tried to shift the attention away from himself. "What about you? What was your house?"

He glanced up.

Crowley was gone.

Aziraphale blinked and looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's here!! crowley's here!! at last!!  
(oh no where did he go)


	4. The First Day Of The Rest Of The School Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you don't mind longer chapters with two points of view!! ^^'' (I'm not rly planning on writing chapters like that but just,,,, couldn't seem to put the two parts separately)  
((oh yeah Newt and Anathema are also here, I had to age them down a bit though))

So, Warlock was right. There was a train.

The Hogwarts Express left from King's Cross, platform 9 3/4 (Adam had to run _into a wall_!!!) and went straight to the school. Adam tried to find Warlock in the crowded station and train corridors, hoping for a familiar face in the crowd, but sadly he couldn't catch the American boy anywhere.

The other best thing to do on the train was finding an empty compartment, putting all of his luggage with himself there, and hoping he wouldn't be suddenly surrounded by three strange wizard kids who found said compartment.

Which, of course, would be exactly what happened.

And now he sat squeezed between two boys (the one on his right introduced himself as Wensleydale, he wore thick glasses and kept correcting everyone around in any conversation; the other one was Brian, and he seemed to only care about whether or not the Trolley Witch had ice cream to offer) and in front of a girl who insisted on having the whole seat for herself (her name was Pepper and so far she seemed to be the smartest of the trio).

"So, is this yours?" she asked, nodding her head in the direction of a cat Adam was holding in his lap.

Despite Adam's protests, Hagrid insisted on buying him a gift (_"I don't want you to spend money on me-" "Take it as a present. For ov'rlooking an' all." he got a bit teary-eyed. "Sorry, this jus' reminds me of 1991-" and he never explained what he meant by that._), and after Adam was devastated to find out there were no dogs allowed at Hogwarts, he had settled for the next best thing- a cat.

He nodded and pet its' head gently. "Yeah. His name's Cat."

Pepper raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment on that.

"My family has a cat, too." said Brian, trying to pet the animal. "But he ignores me."

Cat looked at his hand, hissed, and jumped down from Adam's lap. Brian tried to apologise, but Adam quickly waved it off, stood up, and went into the corridor to start searching.

As he got up, trying to not feel frustrated, the world suddenly seemed to spin. It was almost like the feeling someone gets after standing up too fast, except... weirder. Not only his vision became cloudy, he could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing up, and his chest started aching. He stayed frozen in that state for a few seconds, before he heard a familiar voice.

"Adam?"

He blinked. "Warlock?"

It was Warlock indeed. He stood in front of him, and in his arms he held a familiar kitty.

"Cat!" Adam grinned, taking him from Warlock's arms.

"He's yours?" Warlock asked a bit suspiciously. "He ran terrified into my compartment moments ago."

"Yeah." Adam stared petting Cat, who purred in approval. "He kind of got scared of Brian when he tried to pet him." He absent-mindedly nodded into the compartment's direction.

Warlock peeked hopefully inside, but when he noticed the three kids, his arms seemed to deflate a little. "Made friends already?"

"I, uh..." Adam also looked inside. The trio seemed to be playing with some trading cards. "I don't know." he shrugged. "We just started talking. So I guess?"

Warlock nodded slowly.

"My compartment's full, too." he sighed. "But the kids there don't talk to me. Or I don't talk to them." he looked uncomfortable, as he shifted the weight of his body on one leg. "It's kinda hard with people and all. Kinda hoped I'd catch you sooner." He added quietly, looking down.

Adam felt sympathetic towards the other boy. He himself never had any problems with making new friends, but he was also never forced to live in a foreign country. It must have been difficult for Warlock.

"Well, we can always meet at school!" He tried cheering him up. It seemed to work- Warlock looked up and smiled a little.

"Yeah! Well, if you go to Slytherin, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's where I'm going."

Adam wanted to say that he was definitely going to Hogwarts, and what was even that Slytherin anyway, but he heard a clatter from behind him.

"It must be the Trolley Witch." Warlock mumbled and started heading back to his compartment. "You better go inside, too. We'll talk again at Hogwarts."

Adam slowly nodded and headed back to the trio, squeezing between Brian and Wensleydale.

"Guys?" he started and all three pairs of eyes turned to him. "What's a _Slytherin_?"

Brian and Wensleydale started laughing.

"It's just a bunch o' snakes." Wensleydale snorted, and Brian added, giggling "I heard that they just crawl on the ground and hiss at each other when no one's looking!"

Pepper rolled her eyes.

"Boys, those are just hurtful jokes and stereotypes that should have ended after the Second Wizarding War." she said, although she did smile a little.

"Yeah, Voldy helped a lot with ending those." Brian laughed.

Pepper took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead, murmuring something about men being like that. "Slytherin is one of the houses of Hogwarts. Hogwarts is divided to four of those and you, uh, get sorted into one of them depending on your personality."

Seeing how Adam just blankly stared at her in confusion, she sighed.

"Okay, I'll explain..."

~~~~~~~~~~

The Great Hall was, well, great. Adam stared in awe at the flying candles and long, stretched out tables, while idly listening to Wensleydale explaining that there is actually a ceiling above them, but it is enchanted to look like the night sky.

All the first years were led by professor McGonagall, who was also the headmaster of the school, and who explained how the Sorting Ceremony would look (it was similar to what Pepper had said to him, except with more details, as Pepper seemed to not know how the ceremony itself looked- she just was aware that there was one, and what houses there were).

When they had entered the school, Adam had once more felt the feeling similar to the one on the train, except weaker- but now it all seemed to vanish.

Must've been nervousness.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of a very dirty and frayed hat which sat on a stool.

"I'm going to read your names in alphabetical order, and once your name is read, you're expected to step forward for the sorting."

She read the name of the first student in the list, and Adam watched as she placed the hat on their head. After a moment of silence, the hat moved in a way that it looked as if it opened its' mouth, and _shouted_: "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Well, Adam _Young_ had a while to wait for his turn in whatever-that-was, so he took that time to peer around the hall.

In front of them there was a table with teachers seated by it. He didn't recognize almost any of the faces, but he did notice Hagrid (not like he wasn't easy to notice). There was also another face he vaguely recognized. It was professor... Ah, Adam forgot his name already. The one from Gringotts. He was still wearing the same pair of dark glasses, even though the candles didn't give the best light.

He didn't get a chance to ponder about that, though, since he heard professor McGonagall shout "Dowling, Warlock!"

Adam stared at the boy slowly approaching the stool. The headmaster placed the hat on his head, and after a moment it shouted loudly "SLYTHERIN!". Just like Warlock predicted.

Adam decided to shift his focus to seeing what houses where his other friends sorted into. Brian and Wensleydale were sorted into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively (Adam thought they fit to the houses perfectly, although he was a bit sad knowing that his new group of friends was already split up). Pepper beamed with happiness when the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!".

Finally, when there weren't many kids left, professor McGonagall read "Young, Adam" out loud.

When the hat was put on his head, Adam could hear a quiet voice in his ear.

"Hmmm... Interesting... A head older than its' peers." said the voice. "Quite resourceful I'd say..."

"Slytherin?" Adam thought hopefully; if he was in Slytherin he'd be in the same house as Warlock!

"And the will is there, but the motivation... Much more loyal than anything."

"I want to be in Slytherin!" Adam demanded in his thoughts angrily. He could swear he heard the hat chuckle.

"And that was some courage, speaking in this tone towards the Sorting Hat..." the last thought was followed by silence. After a few dreadful minutes (which Adam spent hoping for Slytherin), the hat finally spoke:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Oh no.

As Adam walked to the cheering red-and-gold table, he avoided looking at the Slytherins. He didn't want to see Warlock's face. Well, at least he was in the same house as Pepper, he thought to himself as he sat down next to the girl.

Some of the last students were sorted, and during that time a guy with dark hair and thick glasses reached to Adam and shook his hand. On his robe he had a badge with a silver letter "P" on a red background.

"My name's Newt Pulsifer and I'm one of the prefects." He said, smiling politely.

Adam nodded slowly, not sure what that meant.

Pepper not-so-subtly pointed at Adam and mouthed the words _muggle-born_. Newt quickly nodded in understanding.

"It means that, uh, after all of this is finished I'll lead you to the common room. And some other stuff." He shrugged. "Don't worry, you'll learn."

Adam nodded again, still not sure what it all meant.

McGonagall stood in front of the teachers' table and cleared her throat. "Before we start the feast, I'd like to introduce our new staff members." She spoke.

"Professor Crowley will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, hopefully he'll stick around for longer than a single year." she chuckled.

The man with dark glasses glanced around the hall and nodded, as if to indicate he was the one McGonagall was talking about. It was hard deducting his facial expression, since so much of his face was covered.

Adam leaned to Pepper's ear.

"I saw him at Gringotts the other day." he whispered.

"Really? What's he like?" Pepper also leaned closer to him. Adam furrowed his eyebrows.

"He seemed just... Really weird. He was arguing with a goblin. Basically hissed at him."

Pepper stared at the teachers' table.

"I feel like I've heard his name somewhere... I don't know though."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and started speaking again.

"Also, this summer professor Binns had most likely gone to find eternal peace-" a few students (mostly Gryffindors) started cheering. "-we obviously didn't cancel the whole subject from the curriculum." the same group of students booed. "Starting this year, History of Magic will be taught by professor Fell."

She nodded towards the man who sat next to professor Crowley.

Professor Fell smiled friendly and awkwardly waved his hand. He looked like the polar opposite to the man he was sitting next to; he had light, messy hair, wore beige robes and just seemed nice overall (especially when compared to professor Crowley).

"Fells are one of the most prestigious wizard families." Pepper mumbled to Adam. "They always end up in Gryffindor and are the most skilled fighters."

Adam raised his eyebrows.

"He doesn't look like a fighting type." he said.

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "It could be a cover-up."

Seeing how silly she looked with that face, Adam tried to mimic it and look at her in the same way. They both stared like that for a moment, before bursting into giggles.

"Now let the feast begin." said McGonagall and all the plates on the tables magically filled with food.

Adam finally glanced up at the Slytherin table.

Warlock looked miserable and, although surrounded by students, terribly, terribly alone.

~~~~~_Aziraphale_~~~~~

At the beginning of the banquet and whole ceremony Aziraphale felt awkward sitting next to Crowley. They hadn't talked (or seen each other, really) since the time Crowley just _decided_ to disappear in front of Aziraphale's office. Aziraphale _tried_ to not think about it too much, but it became much harder when he was seated next to him.

Luckily, the arrival of food saved him.

For the first time in his life, Aziraphale felt grateful that he was so food driven. He felt way more content first filling his plate with whatever appeared on the dishes and then stuffing his face with it, than wondering what could professor Anthony Crowley's deal be.

He was putting more food on his plate for who-knows-which time (frankly, he lost the count after his thirds), when Crowley cleared his throat. Before even thinking Aziraphale turned to him, not realizing that his face was way too stuffed to say anything.

"Ssso..." Crowley stared slowly, but Aziraphale cut him off, raising his hand. He waited patiently as Aziraphale munched through whatever was in his mouth right now (ugh, how he hated when he was forced to eat something quickly! Especially with food as good as Hogwarts'!)

"Alright, we can talk now. Sorry." Aziraphale finally mumbled.

"I-I guess I just wanted to apologize for when I, eh, you know-" he waved his hand.

"Disappeared?" suggested Aziraphale.

Crowley nodded.

"Y-yeah, I, hng, I should've been- That was really- I'm sorry." Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes, but he was _sure_ Crowley was glancing around the room nervously. He couldn't help but think that the way Crowley stumbled on his words was adorable- he sounded like a little kid worried he'd get scolded by an angry parent.

"Well, you did leave me wondering what the hell happened." He said with a gentle smirk, slowly going back to eating.

"I know!" Crowley sounded almost panicked. "I just- Personal things- I can't really- I don't- talk about that." After a moment he added. "Sso are we on good terms?"

Aziraphale chuckled (while filling his plate with what he promised would be the last portion of potatoes, because if he ate any more, he probably wouldn't be able to stand up). "I suppose we are. We can-" he wondered for a moment. "I have some wine bottles hidden in my office. Why wouldn't you pop for a visit later? To mark that I do forgive you."

Crowley smiled playfully.

"I suppose I'm not allowed to disappear before we go inside?" he asked.

"I'd very much prefer not to." Aziraphale had to admit that he liked the way they subtly bantered; it was the first time he had ever talked with somebody so loosely like that.

Crowley stared at something above Aziraphale's arm.

"She's been staring at us." he muttered.

"Who?" Aziraphale turned around, not being subtle at all.

"McGonagall."

When she caught Aziraphale's stare, she did something that surprised both Aziraphale and Crowley- she smiled warmly at them.

Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley, who just shrugged in confusion.

He decided to pour some more food onto his plate, promising this portion would be the _last_ (it's not like he didn't deserve it, he just witnessed McGonagall smiling after all).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more of my stuff, I'm currently posting Good Omens based Inktober pieces on my instagram @/fasbean :D


	5. Voices and Magical Creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting later than planned yeah!!! I'll try to upload the next part sooner to make up for it but I can't promise anything,,,, anyways this might have some mistakes in it cause I re-read it like twice?? I just wanted to get it out asap so sorry for any potential typos!! ^^"

The night had well begun and the rain started pouring outside. As far as Aziraphale knew, the teachers were ought to wait until all the students scrambled to their houses before leaving. He watched prefects trying to tame the confused first-years and smiled to himself.

He always quite enjoyed the atmosphere of the beginning of the year at Hogwarts- after his own sorting ceremony (which was awful and caused him a _few_ of breakdowns during the first year) stepping into the Great Hall felt like returning home. And although right now Aziraphale was sitting at the teachers' table, where he'd never thought he could end up, this familiar feeling was still the same.

As astonished as he felt about it all now, he didn't exactly pay attention to whatever McGonagall had explained to them before the whole feast started- as that point he had been way too anxious about meeting with Crowley again and way too excited about all the food that would appear on the tables. The only thing he really knew was that he was going to leave after all the students would.

After the majority of kids finally exited the Great Hall, Crowley stood up almost immediately. Aziraphale turned to him.

"Would you be so kind and remind me what McGonagall had told us before the feast?" he whispered to the other man carefully, hoping the headmaster couldn't hear them (she was currently passionately arguing with Hagrid about something, but one could never be too sure).

Crowley opened his mouth slightly and stayed quiet for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Aziraphale knew what that meant.

He hadn't paid attention either.

Crowley finally made a noise that sounded like all vowels in the alphabet at once.

"Em, didn't she mention something about giving us all the timetables later?" he finally spoke as the pair started heading out of the hall. Aziraphale nodded slowly.

"Well, I mean... It must have been that." he agreed, not really being able to come up with a better thing she might had had to tell.

As they walked through the corridors (Aziraphale was glad Crowley didn't go in McGonagall's insane pace, he finally felt like he didn't have to jog to keep up), something below them laughed in a high pitched voice. Crowley groaned something about stupid poltergeists, identifying the source of the sound as Peeves.

Aziraphale opened the door of his classroom, waking up a painting next to it as he did so. Crowley glanced around the room curiously.

"You've changed it a bit, huh?" he asked.

"Yes, of course." Aziraphale replied after apologizing to the angry painting. "I wasn't really keen on leaving the classroom as it was kept by a literal ghost."

The most noticeable change was that he had rearranged most of bookcases and other furniture so that the room felt bigger and less cramped. He also changed the general color scheme to make everything look warmer and more appealing- most of the bare walls were now covered with posters and maps, and there was a round, beige rug in the middle of the floor. Obviously, Aziraphale had to also take care of countless spider webs that formed during Binns' time of teaching literally everywhere in the classroom.

"Looks nicer. Friendlier." Crowley reached his palm to a gold book on one of the shelves.

Aziraphale slapped his hand before he got to take the book out. "No touching anything without my permission."

Crowley laughed. "Geez, sure. Next time just saying is enough." he pointed at the door at the end of the room. "So that's your office?"

Aziraphale nodded and led him inside.

The office was even cozier than the classroom. Aziraphale was lucky to have a fireplace, so he put an armchair and a sofa next to it, both covered with fluffy blankets and pillows. The shelves were stuffed with books that he either wanted to keep close to himself or couldn't fit in the classroom. He also made sure to have various cupboards, all filled with sweets, magical or not.

The bed was separated from the rest of the room by a white curtain with a tartan design- similar ones were hung next to the window.

"Make yourself at home." Aziraphale gestured at the sofa, as he moved the curtains by the bed and looked below it, pulling out a bottle of wine.

"So," Crowley unceremoniously flopped on the couch. "is this the room the dead man lived? I mean... not lived? Unlived?" he frowned, trying to find a word for that.

"Oh, no." Aziraphale placed the bottle on the small table between the armchair and sofa, and pulled out two glasses. "Luckily, I got to have a new office. The old one was turned into a room for the dueling club, I believe?"

"Oooh." Crowley nodded slowly and took the glass in his hand, muttering an almost unintelligible _thanks._ "I'm gonna be the head of that." he grinned.

"Oh, really?" Aziraphale asked politely, sitting in the armchair and taking a sip of his wine. Crowley nodded again.

"You can come check it out, if you have time. Not yet sure when it's gonna be, though."

Aziraphale shuddered at the mere memory of the dueling club he was forced to attend back in his school days (especially when he remembered a certain Gryffindor he was related to, who also, of course, attended the same club).

"Trust me, it's better to keep me and dueling as far away from each other as possible." he mumbled.

"Aw, c'mon! It's fun!" Crowley waved his hand and made a noise mimicking an explosion. "It's a lot of... Well, fun."

"I do believe our definitions of _fun_ quite differ."

"So what, you'd prefer to just sit and read your books?"

"Honestly, yes. Many people so often overlook a lot of interesting volumes, and intellectual curiosity is a very important trait." He couldn't see it, but he could swear that Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Well. If it wasn't obvious before why you were chosen for the History of Magic." he snickered.

Aziraphale sighed and looked up at him.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What?"

"Why were you chosen for the Defense Against the Dark Arts? I mean, you had to do _something_ to be qualified for the position." he said, raising his eyebrows at Crowley, who suddenly straightened up.

"I- ugh- 'Cause-" seeming to not know what to say, Crowley quickly took a big sip of his wine.

He looked like he was out of his depth again, trying to hide something once more. Aziraphale immediately wanted to apologize (although he didn't feel like it was _his_ fault that Crowley seemed to consider literally everything about himself a mystery), but both of them were saved by a quick, firm knock on the door.

"Ah, Minerva." he smiled after opening it.

The witch nodded and glanced around the room. "I see you've settled already." She finally noticed Crowley, who stood up and now was staring out of the window in deep focus. "Anthony?" She raised her eyebrows.

Crowley jumped as if he was touched by hot fire.

"I- eh- Yes, that's me. Sorry, I just... thought I heard something outside." he pointed to the window.

McGonagall slowly nodded and, seemingly out of thin air, pulled out two pieces of parchment paper and handed them respectively.

"Well, at least you being here now makes my job a tad easier." She said to Crowley. "Both of you have lessons with first years tomorrow, so keep an eye on them. Also," she added, glancing at the bottle. "be careful with the wine. I don't want _any_ teacher unable to work tomorrow."

She gave them that terrifying stare of hers that made Aziraphale want to dig a hole in the ground, get inside it, and stay there for the rest of his days. He quickly nodded in reassurance.

"Of course! Of course, we will be absolutely tip-top by tomorrow, no need to worry." he smiled.

McGonagall's glare softened a little and she left the office, wishing them both a good night. Aziraphale sighed with relief and placed the parchment on the desk, telling himself that he'll put it up later, once Crowley leaves and isn't around to judge his magical skills.

Crowley seemed to not care about whatever Aziraphale was doing at all; in fact, he looked quite fixated on whatever was outside the window. Finally he turned around.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Did I hear what?" Aziraphale replied, raising his eyebrows.

"That _voice_." he turned back to the window. "Like somebody was crying. Outside."

Well, this was uncomfortable. Aziraphale shifted his weight from one leg to another, not sure if he should be more scared or worried. Crowley's eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed so tight they were barely visible on his face.

"Crowley, no one was even speaking. It was just us and McGonagall." Aziraphale inched closer to him. "Are you alright?"

Crowley didn't answer immediately, he seemed too lost in thoughts for that. Suddenly, he straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, sure. Must've been the wind, or an owl, or something." he shrugged and grinned.

But Aziraphale could feel that Crowley knew that it wasn't the wind or an owl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As weird as it sounded, Adam really wasn't all that excited about the fantastical, magical lessons in the wizardry school of Hogwarts- at least apart from those they shared with the Slytherin house. And there were four of those- Care for Magical Creatures (this one had a * written next to it on the timetable for some reason), History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Astronomy. The first one was the Care for Magical Creatures with Hagrid, and it was supposed to take place outside.

He walked together with Pepper, both shivering as the first chilly September winds blew. Pepper must have noticed how Adam was desperately looking around, hoping to see any Slytherins also heading for the lesson.

"What are you staring at? Hagrid's hut is the other way."

Adam blinked and nodded quickly.

"Yes, I know, I was just...Looking for the Slytherins. We're supposed to have the lesson with them, after all."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Did the whole rivaling thing get to your head, too?" she said. "I think it's completely excessive. I mean, I get that the House Cup is important and all, but I do believe there's a chance for friendship between people from two houses, don't you?"

Adam let her rant until they finally reached Hagrid, who friendly waved at them. Students from both Gryffindor and Slytherin started to gather. Warlock was also there- he arrived late, though, and Adam wasn't able to get to him through all the kids, especially since Hagrid cleared his throat to grab their attention and start the lesson.

"Alr'ght, so... Before yer didn't have this class until third year. But... Well. I think ya have to see this."

He moved a bit to the side and pushed forward a huge basket. Adam, along with a couple other students, stood on his toes and leaned forward to peer.

Inside, there was a little, green snake laying; it was so tiny, Adam could probably have it crawled around his fingers and it would take its' entire length.

It looked like a plain, normal, muggle snake, if it wasn't for two things. The first was a small, scarlet plume on its' head; the second was its' eyes- where a normal snake would have typical eyes with vertical pupils, this one just had two bloody red spots- as if something poked through them, or scratched them out.

Some students began whispering to each other. Hagrid laughed.

"Yeh, it's not often that we see a tiny, blind Basilisk, eh?" he asked proudly.

The serpent "looked" in the direction of the crowd and hissed.


	6. The Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa! I'm back!! I'm alive!! This took so long!!! (blaming finals and pneumonia that came right after)  
I originally planned to write this chapter about twice the length, with two POVs, but finally decided to cut it (after having written out almost 3/4 of the longer version, so the next chapter should be /hopefully/ out sooner)!

"It's so cruel, don't you think!" Pepper exclaimed for who-knows-which time. Adam just sighed and nodded, trying to move more towards the Slytherin students than the castle.

They were leaving the Care of Magical Creatures, and heading inside Hogwarts for whatever else was their next lesson. They spent the whole previous hour listening to Hagrid's monologue about Basilisks, and as interesting as it was, Adam couldn't shake off a weird feeling about Warlock. The Slytherin boy stood behind a couple of his classmates for the entire lesson, and any time Adam would look at him it seemed like he had just been looking at Adam, but immediately went on to stare somewhere else.

He was purposefully avoiding Adam, and Adam could feel that.

"-I mean, I understand that it's a dangerous beast, but then, maybe, oh, I don't know, don't try to take care of it?!" Pepper continued on with her rant, seemingly not noticing how little attention she was given by Adam.

Then, he finally noticed him- Warlock was climbing the small hills leading to Hogwarts by himself, obviously quite far behind other Slytherins, who all have crowded into one tight group. Warlock's shoulders were low and he was slouching a little. He didn't even look up, not tearing his eyes away from the gray grass right in front of him.

"Pepper, I-" Adam cut right in the middle of the girl's monologue about unfair treatment of magical creatures. "-I'll see you in a moment. I have to... uh... talk with someone..."

"What-"Pepper started, but Adam was already moving away from her.

"I'll see you on the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson!" he only shouted.

"But we have Transfiguration next!"

"Well, then I'll see you there, I guess!" he turned around and ran to the boy. "Hey, Warlock!"

Warlock shivered, as if the sound of his own name startled him, and glanced up at Adam.

"Hi..." he mumbled, not seeming too happy about the encounter. This didn't discourage Adam, though.

"How have you been? We haven't talked since-"

"-We got sorted into different houses?"

Adam blinked at the bitter tone.

"Uh, yeah?"

Warlock shrugged. "I'm fine. I guess." he glanced at Adam for a second, and started looking all around them. "Kinda lonely, but it's not like it's something I'm not used to."

He looked up at Adam again. There was something angry in a way his pale eyes basically burned into Adam's soul; it made all of Adam's defensive instincts pop up in his thoughts. With the most effort Adam stopped himself from snapping, that it's not his fault, that he didn't ask to be sorted into Gryffindor, and besides, he heard that all of the worst dark wizards came from Slytherin, so maybe it was Warlock who should be feeling guilty now, huh?

Luckily, he stayed quiet.

Warlock sighed.

"Sorry, I have to go. I have Herbology in a moment." he picked up a faster pace and Adam didn't even try to catch up this time.

The weird dizzy feeling returned, but Adam pushed it away- he was going to have lessons in a moment, he couldn't afford his head to feel weird, after all.

The lesson itself was a bit underwhelming, especially after the scary monster Hagrid had showed them. It was mostly theory, and the only remarkable thing that happened was his argument with Brian. The Hufflepuff kept on trying to pet Cat, which only resolved in the animal running away (Adam regretted taking Cat to the class altogether; but he really thought they would change it to some cool object during the lesson).

Brian stuck to insisting that it wasn't his fault and that Adam "_shouldn't have let just anyone pet his beloved kitty if he cared about it so much_", which only made Adam angrier.

He was still angry when he left Cat in the Gryffindor common room during the pause, but when he finally met up with Pepper again he had calmed down a little. At that point he was even more eagerly awaiting another lesson with Slytherin to actually talk out any issues Warlock might have had with him. He hasn't shared their conversation to Pepper, even though she's been giving him investigatory looks, with her eyebrows raised high on her forehead, all through the entire pause.

Instead he shifted her focus more to their next lesson.

"I didn't think I would ever say this, but I'm actually looking forward to History of Magic." she said as they walked through the tall corridors filled with moving, talking paintings. "Especially since now the teacher his an alive person." Seeing how confused Adam looked after the seriously spoken sentence, she laughed a little. "The previous teacher was a ghost," she explained. "And he's been there since forever. Like he taught my parent, and their parents, and _probably_ their parents, too..."

Adam didn't share her enthusiasm. Their coursebook was heavy, and filled with dates and names he'd probably have to learn by heart, and there was literally no actual magic involved.

_How was this a magical subject?_, he thought when he first looked through the book. _It's literally just reading._

The classroom was located on the first floor, and at first glance it seemed way too small to actually accommodate students from two houses (and yet it somehow did, even though it felt a little cramped). The walls were covered by either bookshelves or yellowed posters with weird graphs drawn on them, some of which being described with some runes-looking writing. It was all coated in warm, golden light (which had to be enchanted in some way, as the clouds outside still looked like plain grey clouds).

The whole room was filled with a mix of the scent of an old, antique bookstore and something that strangely resembled vanilla?

Adam quickly sat down at one of the back desks, wanting to avoid any attention from their professor. Since it was a desk with three seats, Pepper sat by his right without a second thought. The seat on his left was being empty for a moment, until a familiar figure sat next to him automatically.

"Warlock?" Adam blinked.

"Hi," Warlock said dryly, glancing quickly at him and at Pepper (who nudged Adam's arm, silently demanding answers to who _was that Slytherin and why did Adam know him and why she didn't_).

"I-I'm sorry for earlier today." he added after a moment of hesitation. He fiddled with the hem of his robe before speaking again. "Should've been nicer. I guess I didn't look at all of this from your perspective."

It was probably the longest (and most honest) thing Adam heard from Warlock. He smiled.

"Eh, I get it-"

The door at the other end of the classroom, behind the teacher's desk, was pushed open from the other side. A short, round figure walked inside while carrying a sizeable stack of books.

Professor Fell set said books on his desk and looked around the class, his tiny reading glasses almost falling from his nose.

"Hello," he started in a cheery tone. "Is everyone already here?" he scanned the seats quickly. "Great. My name is Aziraphale Fell and I'll be your History of Magic professor."

"Now, I'm sure what most of you have heard about the subject," he started after the last conversations have quieted down. "Professor Binns, may his soul _finally_ rest in peace, didn't have the most... _engaging_ style of teaching. Believe me, I was there." he chuckled. "But I do hope I can rid you of the assumptions of how horribly boring History of Magic can be, and maybe actually interest some of you in the field. So...," he pulled out a blackboard. "I'd like to go over an overview of what our lessons will be in this year."

Adam rested his elbows on the desk and sighed.

In the corner of his eye he noticed Pepper pulling out her quill as she started to write everything Professor Fell would say. Adam decided that a more handy use of the lecture was it being a background noise as he wondered if Hagrid would ever show them an actual dragon.

The lesson went slowly, although Pepper seemed to be actually interested in it, taking notes and asking questions (on the other hand, Adam tried to start talking with Warlock multiple times, but was met with a stern glare from professor Fell).

The first days slowly went by, as they started getting their first homeworks and assignments. Not many things happened. Not many things happened, apart from maybe Brian keeping on terrorizing Cat, much to Adam's distress. Adam was elated to finally have lessons with his want, as he left his first ever charms lesson.

He checked his timeline on Friday to find out that they would at last have the Defense Against the Dark Arts, which, based on the descriptions of older Gryffindors, was the most interesting lesson at the school.

"Will we need our wands? For the lesson?" he asked Pepper during their breakfast.

The girl nodded, but then thought for a moment and shrugged.

"Actually I don't know. There were so many Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in the past, and each of them had different methods," she said." I'm taking mine, though," she added.

Adam slowly nodded, and they both fell silent for a moment, before Pepper suddenly leaning over to him.

"I heard some rumors. That there's something up with the professor." She whispered frantically. Adam took her words in and pondered for a while.

"Well, he does wear sunglasses indoors." he said eventually. To him, that was suspicious enough.

"People say that they recognize him or his name from somewhere, but no one actually knows any Crowley. They just say that it sounds familiar or it reminds them of something... But then they can't put their finger on it."

Adam wanted to ask who the hell did she talk to about this, but finally settled on just letting out a long sigh.

"Well, we're gonna find out what's he like in a moment." he finally replied, fiddling with his wand.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was located on the third floor. Inside it had some weird models of skeletons of magical creatures set around its' corners, and tons of different plants with luscious leaves (some of which were moving) standing by the walls. A relievo of what looked like a three headed snake was carved around and above the stairs (located by the very end of the room) and the desk.

Adam sat besides Pepper and stared at the other students. The green-silver ties of some made him think about Warlock again.

Technically they had gotten on better terms with each other, but the boy still kept himself at a safe distance. Adam wanted to believe that Warlock found himself another friend, like a Slytherin version of Pepper, but he did notice that he had a hard time making contact with anyone around.

His thoughts were interrupted by the main door to the classroom opening and closing with a loud bang.

Adam hadn't seen professor Crowley too many times before- it seemed like he skipped most of the meals and so hardly ever appeared in the Great Hall. When he did catch him around the halls of the castle, it was never long enough to get an actual look at him- he always moved around in a fast, jumpy pace and always kept himself within the shadows.

He wore a black robe, the same one he had at Gringotts. The dark glasses still sat on his sharp nose, covering a big portion of his face.

He quickly strode though the classroom and sat on his desk; he then took a wand from his pocked (it was just as dark as his robe) and started rolling it between his fingers, looking almost as if he was nervous.

"Okay, sso," he started, stretching the 's' sound (Adam wondered if this could have been an intentional choice?), "my take on the subject is simple- you're gonna have half of the lessons practical, and half theory. If they were all pure practice, you'd probably end up dead before the end of the first term," he shrugged. "And if they all were just theory, then, well, we'd just have a full year of future Professor Fells." he raised one of his eyebrows. "And let's be honest here, no one wants that."

A few people (including Adam) snickered at the remark (while Pepper, who started liking professor Fell's _absolutely-not-boring_ classes, just rolled her eyes).

The lesson went on smoothly, and Adam decided that he might just have found himself a new favourite subject.

Sadly, the end of the class came sooner and more abrupt that they had planned.

Hagrid probably tried to be quiet or gentle, since he actually knocked, but it just ended up sounding like a few loud bangs.

Professor Crowley looked up from the fake duel he had with a mannequin (he was just showing them some basic stances used in dueling). The giant ran up to him and whispered something to his ear. He was obviously being careful, but Adam could still hear some of what he was trying to say.

"..McGonagall said... danger... whole school... chose you to help..."

Professor Crowley nodded, his expression not clear (because of those stupid sunglasses covering his face). He answered something, but his whisper was way more secretive than Hagrid's and Adam wasn't able to decipher anything from his response.

He watched Hagrid leave the classroom and turned to Pepper. The girl's eyebrows were furrowed and her lips formed a thin line. She looked at Adam.

"It's probably about the Basilisk... Or something worse." She whispered to his ear. Adam glanced at her for a moment, and then looked outside the window. He had a sudden urge to go outside nearby Hagrid's Hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays y'all! And thank you to anyone who's still reading this after the two-month long hiatus <3


	7. A Snake With No Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: yeah im gonna have it all finished soon  
life: heheheHEHE

"Remind me again, what did Hagrid call you for?" Aziraphale asked, smoothing his coat with his hand. Afternoons were getting chilly again and this day in particular seemed to mark the beginning of a cold, wet, damp autumn.

Crowley shrugged carelessly. "He hasn't actually told me. Something dangerous." he said, "And I'm the one who takes care of the dangerous stuff now, I guess."

Aziraphale huffed, following him to the large wooden door. He wasn't the type of person to willingly go to _the dangerous stuff_, as Crowley put it, but when he was approached by him outside of the Great Hall after lunch, he couldn't really say no.

"I guess you are." he sighed, nodding to Crowley in thanks as he held the door open in front of him. "And I'm the one you scare your students of becoming if they don't go to said dangerous stuff?"

Crowley seemed stunned for a brief moment; Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes, but he was sure the other man just blinked slowly.

"You've heard about it?" he mumbled, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and rubbing it nervously. Aziraphale couldn't help the satisfaction he felt, seeing professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Anthony Crowley himself, becoming nervous around him. He delighted himself in this feeling, deciding to use every moment of it in his advantage.

"Oh yes, indeed. The word spreads fast at Hogwarts. And I'm a careful listener." he said, a smile starting to form at his lips.

To be fair, he wasn't really bothered by what Crowley had said about him. His own family (_damn them to Hell_) had made it clear that it was a stretch for Aziraphale to call himself a wizard from his youngest days. After years of hearing what a disgrace to the whole wizarding world they are, one just stops caring about silly remarks from colleagues.

But it was fun to tease Crowley ever so slightly

"It was to motivate them." Crowley finally spoke. He glanced down at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale nodded slowly. "I see. You don't want them to become like me, as in, a bad wizard?"

"No! That's not what I meant." Crowley inhaled sharply. "You're very... Book smart."

"Book smart?" Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

"Theoretical."

"Theoretical?"

"Stop repeating my words!" Crowley snapped. "And it's not a bad thing, necessarily. It's like, a you-thing."

Aziraphale chuckled as he walked around a large puddle of mud. "I think I get it now. It's a me-thing that I'm rubbish at magic."

"Now, I did not say that!" Crowley protested, and only now seemed to catch on the fact that Aziraphale wasn't looking very hurt through their conversation. He slowly exhaled. "You're a bastard in disguise." He finally said, making Aziraphale laugh out loud.

"Why thank you."

They fell into a rather comfortable silence as they approached Hagrid's hut. The giant was doing something in the garden in front of it, and he started waving to them the moment he noticed them.

Aziraphale made sure to stay a bit behind Crowley when they approached him closer. Yes, the risk of there being something actually dangerous might have been low, but it still was some risk and he was not willing to take that. He didn't spot any giant silhouettes of terrifying creatures around Hagrid though, so it couldn't be that bad, really.

"Hi, Hagrid," Crowley walked over the low wooden fence that surrounded what seemed like a giant puddle of mud (and Hagrid was standing right in the middle of it). Aziraphale decided to not go to the other side of the fence; in fact, he wanted to keep his white coat as far away from the mud as possible.

"What beast have you got for me?" Crowley asked, without beating around the bush.

"Oh," Hagrid wrung his hands sadly (were those... _tears_ Aziraphale saw in his black eyes?). "'s not a beast, professor Crowley. 's but a baby."

"It had to be a pretty scary baby if McGonagall's worried about it." Crowley chuckled, folding his arms on his chest.

"Well," Hagrid looked helplessly between Crowley and Aziraphale, his eyebrows scrunched up high on his forehead. "alr'ght, I'll show yer. Wait 'ere." he turned around and disappeared in his small hut. He came back moments later with a giant basket in his hands. "Look." he said, turning it around.

Aziraphale gasped and instinctively brought his hands to his eyes, expecting the worst. Alas, he didn't die. At least he didn't think so.

He slowly took back his hands and looked at the basket. The animal hasn't changed, so he had to be obviously right.

It was a Basilisk. Tiny, but still a Basilisk.

Crowley looked like he had frozen in his position. His mouth was slightly open, and his back was surprisingly straight, with none of his usual, careless slouch. His one hand was ever so gently reaching in the direction of the animal.

"Crowley..?" Aziraphale mumbled unsurely, hoping that the glance of basilisk did not kill him.

Crowley broke from the trance and he took a long, deep breath.

"Y-You blinded it?" He finally spoke, looking up. Hagrid shrugged.

"Had to."

Only then Aziraphale actually noticed it. The Basilisk's eyes-or the places where the eyes should have been- were red, bloody and _hollow_. What he thought was looking at Crowley's direction was actually just it leaning to the side, without actually turning its' head in any particular way.

What puzzled Aziraphale even more than the _how_ or _why_ connected to the Basilisk was Crowley's reaction.

His expression could have been anything between sad and furious, with his eyebrows scrunched, creating even more wrinkles on his forehead, the corners of his lips turned downwards, while his mouth was still slightly parted. He stopped breathing for a moment, before finally letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

"That's barbaric." He mumbled. Hagrid shrugged again.

"It'd be too dang'rous with the eyes." He replied.

Although Crowley nodded, it didn't look as if he'd been listening for the answer at all; he crouched next to the basket and reached his hand out. To both Aziraphale and Hagrid's surprise, the snake, after a moment of searching, climbed on Crowley's hand and twisted around his fingers. He stroke its' head gently with his other hand.

"Hi there, buddy." He whispered to it in a weirdly non-Crowley, high pitched voice. The basilisk slipped its' tongue out and, after a moment, nuzzled to the bottom of Crowley's hand.

Only then Aziraphale caught himself staring at Crowley, who was all crouched up, speaking in a childish voice to an animal, and looking so... _gentle_.

He quickly moved his glance away and brushed it off; it was an unusual sight to be the witness of, after all. Crowley stood back up again and once more turned to Hagrid, the Basilisk still twirling between his fingers.

"So, what do I have to do with it? Transport it somewhere?" He asked, finally seeming to be fully present in the moment.

Hagrid took a sharp, shallow breath and mumbled something quietly, his whole large body shook with a sob.

"Professor McGonagall... She said you h've to get it... It's gotta be..." He started mumbling in a shaky voice. "Killed. Euthanized."

Sure, Aziraphale felt sympathy towards Hagrid and his obsession with potentially dangerous beasts. But he'd be lying if he said that he'd be sad over a death of a literal Basilisk.

"_It just seems like the two Basilisk attacks that had happened at Hogwarts was already two too many_." he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud. Instead he just opted to sympathetically patting Hagrid on his arm (he would not be able to reach the giant's shoulder easily in any way).

Crowley stayed quiet for a moment, putting his hand (and the basilisk) in his pocket mindlessly.

"Oh." he finally said. "Of course." He crossed the small fence and stepped on the grass again. "I suppose you don't want to be anywhere near it when..?" he couldn't finish the question. Hagrid shook his head quickly.

"N-No." he finally whimpered. Crowley nodded.

"Aziraphale?" He turned to him. Aziraphale blinked.

"Yes?"

"Let's go."

He started walking up the hills, not even looking back to see if Aziraphale's following. This time he walked much faster than on their way to the hut, forcing Aziraphale to jog behind him while silently cursing everyone born with longer legs.

When they reached about the half-way point of the way to the castle, Crowley stopped abruptly. As Aziraphale finally caught up to him, he just muttered briefly.

"Give me your hand?"

"What?" Aziraphale was catching his breath.

"Come on. Quick."

He finally, unsurely reached out his hand, and Crowley quickly gripped it. However, instead of just a feeling of his fingers tightening around Aziraphale's, he felt something else. It was moving in a weird way, and only after Aziraphale could feel its' tongue, he realised what it was.

"Crowley, you are not giving me a-" his voice rose with every word of the sentence; Crowley hushed him quickly.

"Shut up! Just put it in your pocket." He hissed.

"N-No, it's dangerous, you know what it can do, it is a Bas-" this time Crowley quieted him by simply putting his other hand on Aziraphale's mouth.

"Do not say it out loud." he said through gritted teeth. He got so close to him, Aziraphale could count the faint freckles on his nose. His glasses had skewed a little, to the point where Aziraphale could see the yellow of his irises.

For a second he forgot about the Basilisk in his pocket.

Crowley seemed to realize how close he'd gotten, and he just as suddenly backed away. "Besides," he started. "he won't hurt you. I told him not to."

After that he turned around and picked up a fast pace again.

"Where are you going?" Aziraphale called out cluelessly.

"To McGonagall. I'll tell her we killed him."

"But we didn't-"

Crowley turned around, grinning. The only glimpses of the autumn sun were reflecting in his sunglasses.

"Yeah. We're stealing a snake!"

He left Aziraphale alone with a baby Basilisk in his pocket. Great. Just splendid.

Without anything better left to do, he headed for the castle, planning to go back to his room and do _something_ about the animal. In his mind he was already imagining the speech he'd give Crowley (once he finally sees him again) about proper communication, clarity, and not giving your co-worker a literal beast to put in his pocket.

As he walked first through the damp grass, and then inside the roomy corridors, completely lost in thought, Aziraphale was mindlessly carried by his legs. He didn't really pay attention to the surroundings, as right now his priority was to get to his office and try to not have a meltdown. The snake heaved in his pocket, but it was surprisingly calm; if he hadn't been so worried, he might have forgotten it was there.

"Aziraphale, is something bothering you?" A familiar voice from just in front of him asked.

"Professor McGonagall!" he jumped. "I mean... Minerva. Hello. Fancy seeing you here."

Suddenly the Basilisk seemed much heavier than it was just moments ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for still reading, giving kudos and commenting on this story! Right now life is crazy, I'm gonna finish high school in three months, and I already got some offers from unis in the uk so idk how much time I'll have BUT even when I'm not as active, I am definitely not abandoning this fic (or my other long works)!! Once again thank you for reading and I can't promise I'll update sooner this time but I definitely will try <3333


	8. A One-off Accident, Nothing Fatal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I starting to plant some PAINFULLY SLOW burn seeds in here?? it's high time isn't it
> 
> (also, happy easter to anyone who celebrates! I just had the most surreal easter where we facetimed all of our big-ass slavic family and put the phones on the chairs..... stay safe y'all!)

McGonagall's piercing look still terrified Aziraphale to no end, even though he tried to tell himself that he was in fact an adult now, and _not_ a student still attending Hogwarts.

"Well?" She raised her eyebrows, her grey eyes looking as if they could see right through his soul to find out everything that happened in the past thirty minutes or so.

But that was silly, she couldn't _possibly_ find that out.

Right?

He cleared his throat.

"Well," he said. "Well." _I_ _may or may not be breaking the law now._ "I needed to just step outside. I-It can get quite dark and stuffy here... Yes."

McGonagall definitely was not convinced, but she let it slide, as she sighed with defeat and began walking again.

Aziraphale felt the weight leave his chest; he didn't realize how tense he'd gotten while talking with her. He was ready to turn around and sprint to his office, all while trying to not melt down.

"Oh, and Aziraphale?" McGonagall stopped.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Anthony? He was supposed to..." She stopped in the middle of the sentence and rubbed her temples. For a brief moment it looked almost as if she let herself show being tired. "I told him to take care of a creature Hagrid brought to school. He would have left by now." She went back to her usual, piercing look of hers again. "You haven't perhaps seen him? Because I have that strange feeling that he had messed something up."

Aziraphale blinked slowly.

He then grinned and let out a nervous, high pitched laugh.

"What, l-like he'd just take the creature and keep it..? Or something..."

McGonagall stared at him curiously, but luckily, after a moment, she straightened her back again.

"You're right. I guess I'm worrying too much about this whole situation," she said. "Have a nice day."

Once Aziraphale was sure she had walked away, he straight up ran into his office (which was something he hadn't willingly done since, probably, his second year at Hogwarts).

He shut the door behind him loudly and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Even after he calmed down, he still needed a good minute before looking inside his coat pocket.

Well, there it was.

The Basilisk looked happy as ever (or, at least, as happy as a Basilisk could look). It curled up in what Aziraphale would assume was a sleeping position- although he couldn't say that for sure, since it's eyes were... non-existent.

It did look awfully peaceful, and if it wasn't for the fangs which were still poisonous, Aziraphale would say it's kind of, in its' own weird way, _cute_. Probably as cute as a gross, murderous snake could get.

Standing by his wall, staring at one of the most dangerous beasts in history, there was really one coherent thought forming in his head.

_I'm going to murder Crowley, that bastard._

He walked through the classroom, towards his office, thinking what he will say to him.

He opened the door at the other end of the room and-

"Hi," Crowley said.

Aziraphale didn't need any more reasons to get mad.

"You stole the Basilisk!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger at Crowley. Crowley just raised his hands, looking way too peaceful.

"_We_ stole the Basilisk," he said. "And please don't scream."

"I- The snake has been stolen!"

Crowley walked over to him. "First of all, _again_, shhh," he started. "Second of all, how is he?"

He didn't actually wait for an answer, as he unprecedentedly glanced down to Aziraphale's pocket. He then proceeded to take the Basilisk out, as if it was a tiny puppy, and held it up in his hand.

"Look at this little guy." Crowley smiled as the snake slowly wrapped its' body around his fingers. "Isn't he the cutest?"

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, but didn't bother to answer.

He did not like it one bit, but it seemed as if the anger that had been building up in him before has faltered. It was really mostly Crowley's fault, as he spoke to the Basilisk in a soft, loving voice. Aziraphale couldn't force himself to stay mad at that.

"_Cute_ isn't the word I would use for it, but sure," he mumbled, surprised at how much had his own voice soothed.

To his surprise, Crowley unzipped the top part of his robe and put the snake in an inside pocket, right by his chest. The only thing that was between his bare skin and the scary fangs was a thin, black undergarment.

"You're not scared, having it so close like that?" Aziraphale asked.

"What?" Crowley let out a short, barking laugh. "Why would I be scared of a Basilisk of all things?"

He zipped his cloak up again, set off to walking again, _ruffled Aziraphale's hair_ and strangely cheerily walked out of the room.

They passed the next few days without bringing it up in any way whatsoever. The closest thing to actually _talking_ about the Basilisk was a quick, quiet glance they'd share in the Great Hall- and somehow both of them knew when the other meant with it.

Oh, yes, the Great Hall. Crowley started attending the meals for some unbeknownst to Aziraphale reason (since before he only ate by himself, in his own office). He wasn't exactly eating, to be frank; he mostly just drank tons of black coffee, occasionally nibbling on a piece of toast (on the other hand, Aziraphale was definitely getting as much use as he could from getting the widest choice of free meals, as most of his dishes ended with seconds or thirds).

They did talk, though. Probably even more than they did before. Just not about... any fantastic beasts. At some points Aziraphale would wonder how did Crowley actually manage to... _live_ with a Basilisk- but he never dared to ask.

This particular morning he'd only made a small talk with Crowley (Crowley, out of the blue, mumbled that the weather was nice; to which Aziraphale agreed that yes, it looked quite lovely, unusual for this time of the year. Only then Crowley really quickly asked him if he wanted to meet this evening, and Aziraphale, to his own surprise, said he'd be delighted to do so), before Crowley quickly left the Great Hall, leaving Aziraphale confused.

At the moment, though, Aziraphale was heading to his class, making a mental note to check if he'd included everything in his plans for today's lesson with the first years.

He walked by a small group of kids screaming at each other about cats and transfiguration (he made sure to check if any of the Gryffindors in the group didn't pull their wands out, since after spending most of his youth with a cliché Gryffindor he knew how often they'd resolve conflicts with violence).

His classroom seemed to get more and more homey with every passing day. Part of it was purely Aziraphale's doing, as he kept bringing more of his favourite books in, as well as accumulating blankets around his seat, but part of the changes was seemingly done by the castle itself- as Aziraphale definitely didn't control the temperature, the colour of sunlight, or the fact that the books changed spots on the shelves.

He smiled as he made his way to the desk, humming to himself.

"_It's strange_," he thought, looking around the room contently. "_I've barely lived here and it feels more like home than _home _ever had._"

He sat down by the desk, took a parchment spreadsheet with his schedule for the day, and at the very bottom added:

_"Meet with Crowley"_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam was angry. He felt a strong urge to stomp his foot on the floor like a mad child and he used the last of his will to not do that.

"Calm down." Pepper put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's just- Brian should have learned by now!" he exclaimed, maybe, _just maybe_, whining a bit.

"To be fair," Pepper took her hand back and put both of her hands on her hips. "You should have learned by now as well to not bring that poor cat to our classes."

"She's right." Warlock said, glancing at Pepper nervously. He always kept a safe distance from her, and though he'd never admit it, he was most definitely scared of her.

Adam pouted, still not convinced to not be mad at Brian anymore. He hated the fact that Warlock took Pepper's side even more than the fact that he had to search for Cat through what seemed like the entire castle (Cat was safely napping on Adam's bed now, but at what cost?).

"Come on," Pepper said. "You won't be seeing him for another hour or two. You both need to cool down."

He nodded, suppressing his need to groan- Brian had his class of Defence Against the Dark Arts, that lucky son of a gun. Adam, instead of that, would have to sit through Pepper's favourite _oh-Adam-you-just-don't-appreciate-the-fine-art-of-studying-the-mistakes-of-the-past_ class.

His favourite thing about History of Magic was that he had Warlock sitting beside him. They'd usually spend hours playing Tic Tac Toe on some loose piece of parchment, or Adam would watch Warlock making his drawings of dragons magically move across the pages.

This is also exactly what they were doing now, looking up from the page every now and again to pretend they were actually participating in the lecture. Pepper scoffed at them, but she never actually said anything, which Adam thought was nice of her.

Warlock nudged his arm and showed him a short note he had just written

_There's a Quidditch match in a few days. Gryffindors vs Slytherins. R u coming?_

Adam furrowed his brows. There were still some words in the Wizarding World he didn't get, and this whole Quidditch thing was definitely one of them. From the note he got it was some type of game.

**To play?**

Warlock read what he wrote back and rolled his eyes.

_To watch, silly. First years can't play. Maybe we can also try to sit next to each other, idk how tho_

Adam shrugged. "Sure," he muttered, making a mental note to see what was the deal with the whole Quidditch thing.

That's when professor McGonagall burst into the room.

"Excuse me, professor Fell, could I talk to you for a moment?" Even though it was a question, it sounded more like an order. McGonagall looked stiffer than usual (which was quite an accomplishment). Her eyes were opened wide, eyebrows furrowed, and Adam could see that she closed her fists so tightly her knuckles became paper-white.

Professor Fell turned from the map he was showing them (his lecture was about how the Wizadring maps had to change over time... or something. Adam would ask Pepper about it later). He looked about as stunned as a student would, his tiny glasses almost falling from his snubbed nose.

His face then broke into the fakest, most nervous smile Adam has seen.

"Of course. Um," he turned to his students. "Take a look at the page 121 in your textbooks and read up a bit about the history of the Isle of Drear. We'll have a discussion about it later." He walked over to McGonagall, and then they both went outside, talking in low voices.

Adam and Pepper shared a glance and did what any self-respecting Gryffindor would do- they went to the door and out their ears to it, hoping to catch any of the conversation.

"What are you two doing?!" Warlock hissed from his seat.

"Eavesdropping, what do you think?!" Pepper hushed him.

Adam didn't respond, too busy trying to make out any clues that could have indicated what made McGonagall get so pressed.

"...And where did it happen?" he heard professor Fell's worried voice.

"In the Serpentine Corridor, just by the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom."

"I'm assuming Cro- Anthony knows?"

"Yes, he was the one to inform me."

Adam looked at Pepper again, at the same time she looked at him. He knew what she was thinking about- his own mind drifted to that one time she brought professor Crowley up in their conversation in the Great Hall. And, as Adam thought about it, he has been weird for the past few days. At least, _weird_ in his own terms- like coming to the Great Hall, for example.

They heard some shuffling and ran to their desk.

"Hey, Warlock," Pepper leaned towards the Slytherin. "Do you think we'll be able to talk with your prefect?"

Warlock snorted.

"What for? Anathema can only talk about her stupid conspiracy theories."

"Yeah," Pepper nodded. "I know."

Professor Fell ran into the class, somehow managing to look even more worried than he did before. He fiddled with a loose thread of the sleeve of his robe.

"Sorry, everyone," he said. "I had to- there was- Yes. Erm. Where did we leave off, again?" He shuffled through the papers and books on his desk with shaking hands. "Oh, right. The Isle of Drear."

Pepper raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Moonchild?" he asked (Professor Fell was probably the only person in the entire school to refer to Pepper with her actual name).

"Professor, I don't mean to be rude, but, what on earth just happened?"

Professor Fell took a deep breath and looked around the class.

"I'm afraid it's not something for me to inform you," he said and raised his hand when a couple of students started raising their voices. "You will be informed, probably, if the headmaster and the head of your house decide you need to be. For now," he sighed. "let's just say it was a one-off accident, nothing fatal. Alright?" He looked around the kids once again and smiled. "Nothing you need to worry about. It doesn't even involve anyone from your house."

Adam looked at Pepper again.

She moved a small note towards him (something she'd never done before).

_We need to talk this all out._

Warlock looked at the note.

"What about me?" he whispered.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "You can join too, I guess. Just don't be stupid. One Brian is enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I'm trying to take part in the LLF Comment Project, idk if I got everything figured out tho!))
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author appreciates all the comments and tries to reply to most.


	9. Meeting by the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing (although only in mention): Aziraphale's shitty family because I love pain :))) don't worry if it isn't shitty enough yet cause in every future mention Gabe is just gonna get worse and worse :)))))

Making his way through the Hogwarts corridors, his steps echoing in the castle, Aziraphale once again felt that he was getting mad.

He was getting that feeling way too much for his standards lately. He was also walking way too much for his standards. Maybe these things were connected.

He was heading to Crowley's office, because of course he would be. Crowley was absent throughout the entire teachers' meeting they just had, and Aziraphale couldn't shake off the uneasiness. Even though McGonagall told him several times that Crowley's absence was planned, she still did ask Aziraphale specifically to talk with him later.

Oh, and what talking with him he was about to do.

The paintings looked at him surprised as he went past them, ignoring all the quiet murmurs they let out. His brain was still too busy processing what had happened.

Poor kid. Aziraphale recognized him from the lessons. They didn't even know what hit him. Madam Pomfrey described his condition as _similar to being petrified, but not exactly that_ (these words alone were enough to make a shiver run down Aziraphale's spine; he did know about the previous instance of students getting petrified after all).

Poor professor Sprout, too. The kid was a Hufflepuff, a house that one could say was taking pride in staying away from everyone's fights. Not only that, it was a first year. Aziraphale frowned, small wrinkle appearing above the bridge of his nose. If Crowley _somehow_ was involved in this...

"Hey! I know you!"

Aziraphale wished he hadn't stopped walking the moment he did so. But it was too late. The voice, coming somewhere above him, let out a terribly annoying, high-pitched laughter.

"Yeah! It's you! Zira the bad wizard! Did you finally learn how to hold a want?"

Aziraphale stifled a groan.

Peeves the poltergeist was having the time of his life, jumping in the middle of the air above him.

"Now isn't the time, Peeves," he sighed and picked up the pace again.

The poltergeist let out another squeaky laugh. "Everyone look, he knows how to speak now!"

Everything from his laughter, to what he said, to how he called Aziraphale _Zira_ (words couldn't describe how much he had always hated this diminutive of his name) opened an old wound in Aziraphale's brain, full of childhood memories that were... less pleasant than he'd wanted, to put it lightly.

When Aziraphale still attended school, there was only one person Peeves listened to- and that person was no other than Aziraphale's older brother, Gabriel Fell.

Gabriel, well... the older Aziraphale got, the less he tried to think about him. He was _exactly_ what one might have expected from a respected pure-blood family: skilled, charming, naturally gifted. In short, the perfect asshole. Putting him next to Aziraphale only made Aziraphale realize what a complete basket case had he been.

He hadn't actually talked with Gabriel for months (for his own good, really), and doing his stay as a Hogwarts professor he managed to more-or-less forget about him.

Peeves brought all the memories back, with even more force.

The images of Gabriel and his other, perfect, Gryffindor friends appeared in Aziraphale's mind again, the stupid songs they'd sing when they saw him, or signs with some offensive writings magically glued to his back, so that he wasn't able to just peel them off.

_"Oh, come on, Zira, you can just use some quick, easy spells for that. You're not a Squib, are you?"_

He shook his head, hoping the memories will just shake off his brain and climbed up the stairs nearing the Serpentine Corridor and Crowley's office. Peeves still hovered in the air.

"Oooh, I wouldn't talk to him," he suddenly said.

"Why not?" Aziraphale turned around to face the poltergeist.

"Scary." Peeves responded simply and disappeared with a _pop!_ sound. Aziraphale looked at the spot where he was floating just a moment ago and shrugged. It was a... _peculiar_ remark, but Peeves was a pretty peculiar being himself.

He pushed open the door to Crowley's room without knocking and immediately felt the _scary_ Peeves just told him about.

_Something_\- no, somebody- was hissing.

That somebody was Crowley.

Crowley, who was sitting behind his desk, holding the Basilisk (which went from being about the length of Crowley's finger to being the size of a small puppy), made _horrendous_, low hissing noises to said Basilisk. The sounds filled the whole room, and the animal was slowly swaying, nuzzling at Crowley's hand.

"What the- You're a _Parselmouth_?!" Aziraphale shouted before his brain even began to think.

Crowley jumped from his desk to the opposite corner of the room, clutching the snake tightly.

"Oh, why don't you ssscream it louder?! I'm ssure the Assstronomy Tower hassn't heard you yet!" The hissing seemed to stay in his voice, even when he spoke English.

Aziraphale broke from the panic that had just overtaken him and realized that this reaction was quite stupid, and honestly, a tad impolite from him.

"Sorry! You just- gave me quite a scare here." He closed the door behind himself, turned to him again and whispered, making sure his voice was kept low this time. "You're a Parselmouth?!"

"Of courssse I bloody am!" Crowley snapped back and want closer to him; Aziraphale involuntarily moved a few steps back, but the other man only went to the door to make sure it was properly closed.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, his voice completely going back to normal.

Aziraphale struggled to find any words, as the realization of what Crowley being a Parselmouth meant started to settle in. The unease that hasn't been there before around him suddenly appeared.

"_Ah, come on Aziraphale, you stupid git, not every Parselmouth was a dark wizard,_" he told himself. Although, to be honest, there weren't many names coming into his mind when he thought of non-evil Parseltongue users.

But it's not like Crowley out of all people would be a dark wizard. With his eccentric mannerisms, long, black robes, weird tattoo on his temple and a... Basilisk in his hands...

"Hello? Earth to Aziraphale!" He waved his hand in front of Aziraphale's face, bringing him back to the present.

"Uh, well... McGonagall told me to check on you."

Crowley groaned. "Sure," he said.

"Because of the whole-" Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Oh, oh no, Merlin's beard, Crowley, you and- and _this_," he pointed at the Basilisk, "aren't behind the attack, are you?!"

Crowley stared at him with his jaw barely dropped, as if in shock.

"Aziraphale, who do you think I am? I would- I would never make Bentley do something like this, besides, he doesn't have any eyes, and I- He- ngk-" He was at a loss with words for a moment. "Do you really think I could do _that_?" His voice by the last sentence sounded hopeless and devastated, and it made Aziraphale feel a pang of guilt in his chest.

"Oh dear, no, that's not what I was... Bentley?"

Crowley scoffed and hugged the snake tighter. "He deserves a good name."

"You _named_ it?!"

"He's not an it!" Crowley huffed, offended. "Bentley is a proud Basilisk!"

Aziraphale stared at him and sighed deeply, not believing how off-track their conversation has gotten. Crowley held his gaze (or at least he _probably_ did, as he was still wearing his stupid sunglasses) for a moment before going to the window and leaning against it, Bentley slithering from his arms to settle on his shoulders. Aziraphale walked closer to him and looked outside.

It started raining again. Some kids ran through the wet grass, splashing water everywhere.

"Crowley, do you actually have any idea... what happened? And who's behind it?"

Crowley's shoulders dropped, he glanced at him and outside the window again. Aziraphale watched his reflection in the glass.

"I haven't got a clue," Crowley whispered. "I'll have to... Talk with people. And see the kid."

The silence, only disturbed by the sound of the rain outside, was suffocating. But at least Crowley had the seed of a plan... Right?

"Aziraphale?" he suddenly asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you care about Quidditch?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam and Pepper agreed to talk about all of this with Anathema after they have gathered the rest of their pack.

It looked like they weren't destined for it, though. Brian was nowhere to be found (he was nowhere to be found in the Great Hall, that is). Without much consideration Pepper and Adam took in on themselves to go and find him. After all, it couldn't be too hard to get into the Hufflepuff common room, _especially_ if they were looking for their friend.

"Are you sure we're in the right corridor? I don't see any entrance," Adam said as they went down to the basement level. He has only visited the dungeons when had Potions class with professor Slughorn, but that was in a completely different place of the castle.

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I am sure of it, the entrance muse me hidd-" she stopped halfway through the word as somebody behind them cleared their throat.

Adam stopped dead in his tracks and looked over at Pepper, who looked back at him. Her eyes were wide.

He was already imagining a scenario where professor Crowley finds them, two helpless first years and does whatever he had done to that other kid. They probably wouldn't have any chance at fighting him off- because Adam doubted he'd used any wand magic to get them.

"What are two of my students doing in the kitchen corridor out of all places?" Professor McGonagall asked.

They both got immediately relieved, although that didn't last long- professor McGonagall _could_ be scary, after all.

"Uh," Adam started, avoiding her glance, even though he did turn to face her. "We- Um- Well-"

"We wanted to see our friend, Brian. We heard that something happened and..." Pepper's voice trailed off.

"We had to make sure he was alright." Adam completed.

He finally dared to look up at the professor and felt shock the moment he noticed how tired she was. Her eyes were half-lidded and strands of hair have escaped her normally tight bun. It was probably hard for a headmaster to deal with things like this, Adam realized.

McGonagall sighed.

"I think you two need to know this, you'd find out anyways..." she looked first at Pepper and then at Adam. "Brian is in the hospital wing right now. He is... He's the one that got attacked."

Pepper gasped. Adam could just stand as if he was frozen.

"I would advise you to not go check up on him for now," McGonagall continued. "But he should get better soon. We do have all of our teachers working to help him. And you two," suddenly her voice became the normal, strict tone, "should be heading to the common room. Right now."

When they got far away enough, Pepper groaned.

"Have you heard that?! _All of our teachers are working to help him._ Sure, especially Crowley. He's probably working to hide any evidence-"

"Be more quiet," Adam mumbled. The thought of someone close to them being the one attacked weighed on his shoulders. "We wouldn't want him to hear us."

"You wouldn't want who to hear you?" Peeves, the school poltergeist, flew above them right as the stairs they walked onto started moving.

"Go away Peeves," Pepper said. Peeves laughed and started singing some stupid songs, as if whatever was happening wasn't too much for them at the moment. Adam's head started to hurt.

"Peeves, _leave_!" He shouted. To his surprise, the poltergeist blinked and disappeared into thin air.

"You really scared him, huh?" Pepper laughed quietly and pulled him up the stairs. "C'mon, let's get out of here before they move again."

They realized the stairs ended next to the Serpentine Corridor. Adam wanted to go inside, "for research, c'mon, it'll help Brian", but Pepper insisted they go straight to the Gryffindor Tower. They did have to find a way to talk to the house prefects, after all.

That's when one of the doors in the corridor opened, rays of light illuminating the dark hall. Adam and Pepper quickly hid behind a corner.

"So, Friday by the Lake then?" They heard professor Fell's voice. Another voice grumbled something in agreement. "Oh, and Crowley? Please, do make sure the... _thing_ stays under your control."

The door closed and Fell started walking, thankfully not in their direction.

Now Adam was sure they had to talk to the whole Slytherin-prefect-Anathema girl. As soon as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sadly, Newton didn't seem like much of a help in getting to talk to Anathema.

_If you have any problems with a teacher, talk to me,_ he told them. _And don't bother Anathema with your stupid conspiracy theories, please._

So, they resorted to getting in touch with her through Warlock, who was more than happy to be taking a part in all of this.

Right now they sat at the Slytherin table at Great Hall, recounting their suspicions to the prefect.

Anathema, like Newt, was in the fifth year, and she both seemed scary and nice at the same time. She listened to Adam and Pepper carefully, without poking any fun at them. Before Adam didn't know much about her, other than she was good at divination, was apparently Pepper's idol, and Newt definitely did not have a crush on her, of course not.

After Pepper finished talking Anathema sat quietly for a while. Adam started to worry if she thought they were actually delusional, but she leaned closer to them across the table.

"I think he's actually a vampire," she whispered and leaned back again.

Pepper's eyes and smile widened, and Adam knew they had her support now.

Anathema glanced at the teacher's table, but barely anyone sat by it now, most probably busy with Brian and the investigation.

"So you're saying he and Fell are meeting this Friday?" she mumbled, her eyes still fixed on the end of the Great Hall.

Pepper nodded. "We heard it from them ourselves."

Anathema finally looked back at them, the lights from the windows reflecting in her glasses.

"I guess we've got no other choice but to spy a little."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

McGonagall didn't allow them, despite their loud protests, to see Brian at anytime. She would get rid of them every time by saying that "_he's in good hands_" and that "_professors Sprout and Crowley are already working on a cure in the greenhouses_". As if that would make Adam feel any better.

He could tell that ever since they got in touch with Anathema, Pepper was feeling better, though. He'd often see the girl run through the common room while holding books with more and more on-the-nose titles, all connected to ghouls, vampires, werewolves and other creatures professor Crowley could apparently have been.

When Friday rolled around, she had a whole graph of their future investigations already made. They agreed to show it to Anathema only after spying on their teacher that afternoon.

Adam didn't share their current plans with Warlock, he only told him to meet him at the Quidditch field. For now, they needed as little people as possible, and even Adam himself started feeling like a burden between Pepper and Anathema.

They stood outside the castle, right by the wall. The day of the match was supposed to have nice, sunny weather, but so far everything around them was cold and damp.

That didn't discourage the girls, though. Anathema had binoculars hung from her neck. She grinned once she saw them and ruffled Adam's hair.

"Newt doesn't know I'm hanging with you right now," she said, laughing when Adam dodged her hand.

"What's spying on them right now is gonna do for us, anyways?" he mumbled. "It's not like we're gonna see if he's... _something_ right now."

"True," Anathema nodded. "But if you want to run a good investigation, you have to take notes at all the times you can."

Pepper pulled on Anathema's sleeve, getting her attention.

"I think I see them," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the Great Lake.

She was right. Although Adam could barely make out any shapes in the grey drizzle, professor Fell's white, almost glowing coat was impossible to miss. He could only guess that the dark shadow next to him was professor Crowley.

Anathema put the binoculars to her eyes and watched carefully.

"What is he doing?" Pepper asked.

"Is he biting him?" Adam added.

"In the neck?"

"Or maybe he's lashing out on him?"

"With his claws?"

"Maybe he's doing some spells?"

"Forcing an unbreakable vow?"

"Poisoning him?"

"Shut up!" Anathema's voice raised. They did shut up, but watched her impatiently. Finally she put the device down, remaining silent. After a moment, she finally spoke again, very confused.

"I think... That they're flirting?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Aziraphale saw Crowley, he _knew_.

Of course he'd brought that snake with him.

"Are you stupid?" he gritted through his teeth, trying to keep his voice low (you never know what is listening from the Lake, after all!).

"I do love how you're always just so happy to see me," Crowley laughed. "Now, where did that assumption come from?"

The assumption was not an _assumption_, but an obvious fact Aziraphale could see with his very own eyes (and his eyes weren't the best in the seeing department, mind you). The bump on his chest, which was the curled up Basilisk, was quite well visible, and the tight coat did not help.

Aziraphale brought his hands to said coat and started fiddling with it, hoping to make the snake any less visible, to no avail.

Crowley snorted. "Take me out to dinner first."

A sudden wave of warmth that pooled from Aziraphale's neck to his cheeks. It was colder out than he had thought.

"Why did you take him with you, anyways?" He grumbled, annoyed. The top of Bentley's head was poking from under the coat.

"I didn't want him to feel left out," Crowley answered simply. Aziraphale looked up at him, expecting some punchline, but he looked dead serious.

Finally, Aziraphale settled on taking his own scarf off (it was a lovely tartan, one of his favourites) and put it around Crowley's neck, the front covering his chest at least a bit more. Crowley slowly held it up between his thumb and finger, his upper lip raised in disgust.

"What the hell is _that_?"

"Tartan is stylish," Aziraphale huffed and reached to take Crowley's hand away- he didn't want his scarf to take any damage.

Only once they touched had he noticed how cold Crowley's hands were. They felt like ice, and even trembled even so slightly. Crowley immediately pulled his hand away, as if he just touched a hot stove.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale blinked. "Are you feeling cold?" he asked, which was a stupid question, because of course Crowley was cold, with hands like these. And he was only wearing his stupid, thin robe.

"'S fine. I'm always cold." Crowley took a step back to get some distance between them, but Aziraphale quickly walked closer.

"I have some gloves." He started searching through his pockets and pulled out his old copy of _'Omens, Oracles and the Goat'_. Crowley raised his eyebrows at the book.

"What, I'm not going to mindlessly watch kids fly through empty air on their brooms. And I needed some light read." He finally pulled out his gloves. They were, just like his scarf, beige with a light tartan pattern. Their material was one of a much softer kind, though. Aziraphale had taken them with himself just in case, but he wasn't really a type to get cold; besides, Crowley right now would get a much better use of them.

"Oh no, you're not going to-" Crowley protested, but stopped when Aziraphale gently, yet firmly put them on his hands.

"There," Aziraphale smiled. "Better?"

"Better," Crowley finally said, although it was more of a grumble than an actual answer.

Aziraphale offered him his arm, and he reluctantly obliged and tucked his own arm under it. As they walked to the pitch while chatting (to be fair, Aziraphale did most of the chatting; Crowley just listened with an occasional "mhmm" thrown in), Aziraphale saw some vibrant colours from the corner of his eye.

He stopped, causing Crowley to let out a much more surprised "mhmm?", but the only thing he saw was the Hogwarts castle. Even the window they were basically facing only had darkness behind it.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley sounded worried.

He shook his head. "I thought I saw something. Sorry. Eh, where was I?"

"You found an old edition of _'A Short History of Magic'_ with some handmade notes."

"Oh, right!" It surprised Aziraphale that he paid attention to what he was saying at all. He went off with his story, forgetting about what he might have seen, until they arrived at the teacher seats by the pitch.

Crowley cautiously put Aziraphale between himself and McGonagall, as if she could spot the now safely hidden Basilisk.

She didn't, of course. Instead, she talked with Aziraphale a bit and raised her eyebrows with a small smile tugging at her lips at the sight of Crowley wearing tartan gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Whew, that was a longer one hehe)
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author appreciates all the comments and tries to reply to most!


	10. The Quidditch Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this one took a while to write?? Don't know why that happened, but don't be scared if I'm posting less next month cause finals and stuff :'D

The match was about to start, all players already on their positions, and Adam somehow managed to make it here before the beginning.

He really thought their spying and hiding from Professor Crowley would end up with him getting to the place late, but he guessed they were lucky today. Anathema said she needed to talk some "prefect stuff" out with others, so she left Adam and Pepper to themselves. Warlock, once they finally met up with him by the entrance, to put it gently, wasn't the most pleased at the sight of the girl.

"I didn't know she was coming with us," he grumbled, talking as if Pepper wasn't standing right beside them.

"Well, _she_ decided that you could get some use of a thinking person in this group," Pepper replied, putting a strong emphasis on the word 'she'. "And, she thought we all were friends, not just you two."

Warlock did not bother with replying to that. He just put his hands deep in his pockets, and stared at the wet ground in front of him with sudden interest.

"Hey," Adam tried to make his tone sound light. "We're supposed to have fun, right? We're gonna watch the match together and do just that."

"Sure," Warlock didn't look up. "Who are you betting on?"

"What?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Gryffindor, of course."

Warlock stretched his lips into a thin line, making himself look similar to a frog. "I didn't ask you."

Pepper scoffed.

The tension between them was almost a material, tangible thing now, as Pepper glared at Warlock, and Warlock looked back with the most forced blank stare Adam has ever seen.

"I mean," Adam started. "I'm cheering for Gryffindor too, but does it really matter?"

"Of course it does?" Warlock's voice was cold. "How are we supposed to _have fun_? We're only going to fight, again."

"Uh, I mean-"

"Especially since apparently you'll spend all this time with your actual best friend?!" He pointed at Pepper angrily and stomped off to another side of the field, pushing between them violently. Adam wanted to follow him, but Pepper grabbed him by his shoulder.

"Don't bother," she mumbled. "He's only gonna get more mad if you do." Then her serious face changed into a warm smile for a moment. "Come one. Let's go _have some fun_."

Reluctantly, he did as the girl suggested.

He hated how Warlock and him kept driving apart. What was his deal, anyways? How could anyone have a problem with him having more than one friend? It's not like he was Warlock's property.

All of those thoughts made him realize that it was hard to focus on the _fun_ part, even though the game was really energizing.

The players seemed skilled, at least to Adam's untrained eye. Sport teams in his previous, muggle school didn't present half as good as the players from both sides of the match did.

He tried to follow what was exactly happening, but he only ever really caught up when a goal was being struck. To his annoyance, Slytherin quickly took the lead and looked like it was going to stay at that for the rest of the game.

Adam crossed his arms and sunk back in his seat in the Gryffindor stand. Warlock was probably having the time of his life now, with all of his stupid Slytherin friends.

The Slytherin Keeper blocked one goal after another, only causing Adam's blood to boil. He tried to not imagine Warlock cheering with the rest of his peers, but it was too late.

He tried to look for him in the crowd, but there were far too many people around, and no way Adam could actually see him. He could, however, see the Slytherin Keeper falling from his broom, and he smirked ever so slightly at that. Seconds later the Gryffindor team scored a goal and Adam, along with other members of his house, jumped with glee.

Pepper, who sat by his side, didn't. She stared blankly into the distance. Adam nudged her shoulder and raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

"What?" the girl asked, after finally turning to him.

"We just scored a goal." As he said that, the Gryffindor team did the same thing yet again, and people all around them yet again cheered. "Two goals."

"Oh, right," Pepper sighed. Despite the emotional audience all around them they both just remained silent for a second; Pepper staring off in the distance and Adam watching as Madam Hooch helped to get the hurt Slytherin off the field. He kept pointing at his broom and exclaiming something angrily, but Adam couldn't hear it in the noise.

"Okay, you know what?!" Pepper suddenly burst. "I think Anathema is wrong, I mean look at them, they are most definitely _not_ flirting!"

Adam couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Is this _really_ the reason why you weren't paying attention to the match?"

"Well, of course! They did something to our friend! Look-" she pointed towards the teacher's stand with her chin. "They're _scheming_."

Sure enough, Crowley and Fell _were_ sitting next to each other.

But to say they were _scheming_ out of all things was quite a stretch. They weren't even talking to one another at the moment.

Crowley was sitting hunched over, his arms crossed at his chest. He looked uncomfortable and his head was hanging low. Fell, on the other hand, sat deep in his seat, with a book covering his face, looking so deep in the lecture he didn't even notice what was happening on the pitch in front of him.

Adam shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Looks like Crowley's wearing Fell's scarf. I'd say it's much more of a flirting thing than scheming."

Pepper grumbled "How would you know what flirting things even look like? You're eleven."

"So are you. And I'm twelve, actually." Adam crossed his arms and smiled to himself, proud that he, maybe, for the first time, managed to win an argument against Pepper.

He watched the Gryffindor team score goal after goal, causing all the members of his house in the audience to scream with joy, while the Slytherins on the other side of the pitch groaned.

The game ended when the Gryffindor Seeker finally got to catch the Golden Snitch, which caused their side of the audience to basically explode.

So, of course the end of it all had to be ruined for Adam.

Carried by the overjoyed crowd, him and Pepper left their seats, about as happy as the rest. Sadly, this didn't last too long, as very soon they were bound to bump into Warlock again.

The Slytherins weren't nearly as pleased with the result of the match, and the fact that at the beginning they had some chance of victory definitely had not helped.

Warlock wasn't necessarily chatting with anyone, he was simply solemnly walking along with the rest of people. He also walked almost perfectly head-on to Adam and Pepper.

"So, how does it feel to win without fair play?!" he burst before they had any chance to begin speaking. "You cheaters!"

A few people glanced at them, but no one paid too much attention.

"Cheaters?" Adam repeated, a bit hurt at the assumption. "We didn't cheat, we're just better than you guys."

Warlock blinked.

"Yes, you _did _cheat! I saw it! The Keeper was forcibly pulled from the broom!"

Now, this got Adam confused.

He did remember the guy falling from his broom, but to say he was pulled down... It was a bit of a stretch. Wasn't it?

"He just had an unfortunate accident," Pepper said calmly. "There is some luck involved in the game, after all."

Warlock made a dramatic, almost gasping sound (very much an overreaction from Adam's perspective).

"An accident! _I saw_ him being pulled from that broom, and I don't know who did it, and what did they really do, but you can bet I'll get down to it!" he shouted and stormed out, pushing between people just like he did before the match.

Pepper let out a long, beleaguered sigh.

"You should be grateful you met me," she said. "As you'd have the worst kind of friends without me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale, who had spent approximately fifty one years of his fifty one years long life on avoiding groups of people had now found himself in such. If he had a choice, he'd probably leave Crowley and try going out some other way.

Well, technically he did have a choice, but Crowley also had a Basilisk under his coat. He couldn't just leave him to his own devices now.

Another reason why Aziraphale might have been even more cautious at the moment was a quiet voice at the back of his head, telling him something extremely similar to the _'keep your enemies closer'_ saying.

He wasn't enjoying the feeling of doubt about Crowley creeping on the back of his neck. It was almost as if all of his senses were fighting with it.

A first year pushing between people around him caused Aziraphale to break from his thoughts. To be fair, even if he tried, he would still have problems with thinking at the moment, as he got pushed almost directly into Crowley's side.

"Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" he started, but Crowley gently put his (still gloved) hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and moved him back ever so slightly. He shot him a quick smile.

"Let's get out of here as fast as we can, eh?" he asked, arching his eyebrow.

He picked up a faster pace, pushing through other people (not even half as violently as that first year, though).

"Crowley!" Aziraphale huffed, trying to keep his pace. "Don't go too fast!"

As they got out of the main crowd of people, and Aziraphale got some room to breathe, he couldn't not think about the Basilisk. How could Crowley be so reckless? It baffled him.

The sight (and sound) of Crowley, hissing some weird unpronounceable sounds snuck back into Aziraphale's head. It was quite spooky, terrifying even. Aziraphale did _not_ like that.

As they walked and settled on a more-or-less comfortable silence, a loud screech rang above their heads.

Agnes, his owl (which enjoyed its' stay in the area and rarely came back to the castle), landed on Aziraphale's shoulder with full force, causing him to lose balance for a while. It held an envelope in its' beak and took tiny steps away from Crowley's side, staring at him with wide, round eyes.

"Oh dear. What do you have here?" Aziraphale asked and took the letter in his hand gently, while his other hand moved automatically to pet the bird.

He turned it around and couldn't help an audible groan. He'd recognize that handwriting everywhere.

**_Aziraphale Z. Fell_** shined in the faint light, as it was written with a mixture of golden and violet ink. The obscene amount of curls around it made the name almost unreadable.

"What's the "Z" stand for?" Crowley basked, peering over his shoulder (Aziraphale didn't even notice when did he get so close).

"Just a "Z", really," he mumbled back, not listening.

Carefully, he broke the wax seal with his family crest on it, but in the end decided to not pull out the contents of the letter. He hid it in his pocket.

Gabriel could wait.

Probably.

Crowley arched his eyebrows at him. "So you're not gonna tell me who's writing to you?"

"Oh. Well, um-" Aziraphale shrugged. "Just... My brother. You know, the "_the best aurors, Fells_" part of the family."

Crowley nodded slowly, and Aziraphale involuntarily started babbling.

"You probably have heard of him. Gabriel Fell. Made quite a name for himself." He couldn't help the nervous laugh. Crowley's lips turned into a thin line.

"Yep. Heard about him here and there."

He was strangely silent, but Aziraphale decided to take advantage of that and think about Gabriel. Again. Where did he go wrong that he had to think about him twice this week?

Gabriel was probably having some sort of a low in his work, since he found time to bother with contacting Aziraphale. Although that probably wouldn't last for much longer for him.

Most likely, by the moment Aziraphale received his letter, he was already off to doing some heroics, and in a few days Aziraphale, and the rest of the Wizarding World would read about him in a Daily Prophet article.

To be absolutely honest, sometimes (fine, _often_) he felt jealous of Gabriel. Gabriel, who was a prodigy from the very start, who now was living a life future generations would study about, while Aziraphale would probably be forgotten, swiped under the rug, without a single person to even know about him, and the whole prestigious family of Fells pretending he never existed.

But, Aziraphale couldn't say he minded his boring life, really. Or at least, as boring as it got in Hogwarts.

They walked into the castle and said their goodbyes and see-you-laters, both forgetting about the fact that Crowley was still wearing Aziraphale's scarf and gloves. Aziraphale could ask about it over one of the evenings they met each other.

He climbed the tall stairs, feeling how cold was the marble handrail under his hand. Somewhere in the castle a group of kids- probably Gryffindors- were cheering and singing loudly, their voices echoing through the corridors. He smiled gently, he hadn't been around so many kids in a while, to the point when he forgot most of his time at Hogwarts.

The painting by his side shuffled- in a different way that the rest of the paintings did. Aziraphale slowed his pace and looked at the canvas curiously. It was a landscape, showing a deep, dark forest, quite possible the Forbidden Forest by the castle. The bush in the foreground moved once and then again, and all of the sudden Peeves, of all things, jumped out.

Aziraphale blinked and took a few steps back.

Peeves looked like he hasn't slept in a while- although, being a poltergeist, he probably didn't sleep at all. He was pale, his shiny eyes had dark bags under them, and he stared back and forth with genuine fear; his hands were shaky, too.

"Peeves?" Aziraphale asked.

The poltergeist looked at him, yelped, and jumped into another painting.

"Hey! Wait a moment!" Aziraphale followed him immediately, eyes still glued at him.

"Leave me alone!" Peeves screeched and jumped into yet another painting- a portrait of a few philosophers from around the eighteenth century. He jumped into the papers they had been holding, causing the men to try to push him out.

"What happened?" Aziraphale continued on following him as he jumped through even more paintings.

"I'm not going to talk with any of you ever again!" Peeves let out an animal-like growl. "I don't wanna see any other become like _him_!"

"Like who?" Aziraphale was even more confused.

Peeves glared at him from an impressionist scene of a boat in front of a sunset and disappeared.

Aziraphale blinked and took a few steps back. He looked around, hoping anybody else noticed this as well, but the corridor was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author appreciates all the comments and tries to reply to most!


	11. Secrets and the Night of Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I finally came back from the hiatus :)  
During my nice little break, as you probably have seen, jk rowling herself has posted really harmful and transphobic stuff. I just wanna say that I will continue writing this story, as I got attached to the plot I've planned out, but know that the Hogwarts I'm writing about is an inclusive, welcoming place, regardless of your gender, sexuality, race etc. I love all of you and hope that you all stay safe and know that everything that I put out into the world is never meant to target any marginalised group! <3 Thank u for reading <333

Aziraphale took his sweet time with opening the letter. He arrived at his office, took his coat off, realized that _oh dear, Crowley didn't give the scarf back_, and heated milk to prepare himself some hot cocoa (yes, he could technically just magic it into existence. No, he wasn't going to do that.)

Stirring the cup, he realized he was finding more and more excuse to not actually read the thing. There were shelves to dust, and books to look through, and assignments to grade, and-

The letter felt heavy in his pocket.

With a sigh, Aziraphale seated himself in his favourite armchair (a big one with tons of pillows and blankets thrown at it, just the way he liked). He brought the cup of freshly sweetened cocoa to his lips and took the letter out of the previously opened envelope.

_My dearest of brothers,_

Aziraphale almost choked on his drink. Dearest of brothers, sure. Maybe once hell freezes over (to add to that, he was Gabriel's only brother). He set the cup on the small table by his side and looked at the paper in his hand again.

_I hope this letter finds you in good health._

(Aziraphale wondered how hard it must have been for Gabriel to not include a snarky remark about his "dearest brother's" lifestyle and body shape in there.)

_Before you ask, I've been good, though tired. I know you can only imagine, but man, auror work is way harder you may think. All this travelling to the furthest, most exotic of places can sometimes really get to you._

He didn't bother reading about Gabriel's fantastic life, so he let himself skim over the rest of the letter, only focusing more on the story about fighting off monsters in a French city. (Paris has been Aziraphale's dream holiday spot for years now, and somehow he never managed to go. One day he would, most surely. He had to, at least for the crepes.)

It was the latter half of the message that caught his interest.

It was about Hogwarts.

_It looks like your current workplace can't catch a break now, can it, Aziraphale? We've got some reports about the situation over there- a kid got hurt already, and it isn't even the end of the first term... If this tendency keeps up, we might see each other sooner than Christmas Day._

Aziraphale bit his lip. He should have foreseen this happening, after all the information about the attacks should be handled to the ministry, and hence, the aurors. This didn't change the fact that he certainly would not be looking forward to meeting any of them.

He sighed and took the cup of his cocoa (now cold) in his hand again.

There were a lot of things happening in Hogwarts right now, Aziraphale couldn't deny it. But the thought of adding aurors, especially his brother to that mix... He hoped the mystery could be solved soon, without any outside intervention.

He looked outside and watched the rain, which started pouring heavily again. It looked like it might stay pouring for the whole night, and then probably for a couple of weeks, for the entire autumn and early winter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the amount of constant homework, Quidditch matches and discovering numerous things about the Wizadring World around him, Adam didn't even notice when the entirety of October passed right before his eyes.

He only noticed that Halloween was nearing because of sudden change of decorations around the corridors, in the Great Hall, or the Gryffindor Common Room- red, orange and yellow leaves covered all the walls and columns, spiderwebs (Adam wasn't sure if real or not) were hung on the windows and draped from the furniture; all the while candles in the Great Hall changed into floating Jack-o-Lanterns.

With so much red and orange around it almost looked as if Gryffindor has taken over the castle. Adam didn't mind that one bit.

Brian has regained consciousness, thanks to a remedy that was prepared by professor Sprout and professor Crowley ("of course it's by him," Pepper hissed when they found out. "He knows the perfect solution, 'cause he created the problem himself. I bet Brian was just a trial, and he's going to make something even more dangerous for the whole school soon").

To be completely honest, Adam didn't really care about how did professor Crowley figure out the remedy. He was only happy that his friend was back to the living world.

Brian couldn't attend classes yet, he was still locked in the hospital wing, but at least Adam could visit him now.

They even managed to squeeze in a meeting as an entire group- Adam, Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian- where they investigated about what actually got to Brian.

"I really don't know, guys," he told them then. "It was like... I was just walking down the hall... And the next minute something appeared."

"_Something_?" Pepper asked.

Brian shrugged.

"Like- Like a presence?" he stammered a bit. "I don't even know if it was human or not, but it felt... Familiar. Like a shadow of someone I know would be."

Adam felt a shiver run down his spine. He glanced at Pepper, who looked about as worried as Adam felt.

Quickly after that they were shushed away by Madame Pomfrey and they couldn't coordinate another meeting, but the sound of Brian's words stayed stuck in Adam's head.

_A familiar presence, like a shadow of someone I he knew._

The memory of that conversation was not something good for the scariest night of the year, he decided. It just made everything so much creepier.

It didn't help that Warlock still hadn't made up with him. Since their fight by the Quidditch pitch they haven't talked. Not even once.

Warlock moved his seat in the History of Magic classroom so that they weren't sitting by the same table. Professor Fell raised his eyebrows, but didn't say a word, which Adam really appreciated of him. He didn't want to even image describing his current problems to any adults.

Despite what Pepper has been telling him, the friendship between her and Adam wasn't doing too well, either. He wanted to blame it all on the _stupid Slytherin boy,_ but really, he mostly blamed himself.

If he hadn't always been so fed up about the Warlock situation, he would have been a better friend. For Pepper and the whole pack.

But he never said it. And he wouldn't want _anyone_ to _ever_ mention it. The feeling of rage was constantly bubbling under his skin, causing him headaches and nausea, waiting until it'd get any chance of breaking free. So, _of course_, during the Halloween night, Pepper had to ask:

"So, when are you and Warlock becoming friends again?"

Adam almost tripped on the stairs.

"When we're _what_?!"

"You know," she shrugged. "Apologizing, making up, whatever you wanna call it."

"We're not," Adam said through gritted teeth.

"You mean, like, ever?"

"Yes, I mean like _ever_."

She sighed.

"Oh, well," she said simply. "Kinda a pity."

Adam's inside rage was growing with each word. He felt hot, his cheeks were flushed and his hands were trembling. They were supposed to go to the Great Hall for the supper and stuff themselves to the brim with candy, and not have a fight about a _different_ fight.

It was almost as if there was another voice inside of him, begging to be heart this entire time- and right now, it was screaming.

"It's all you're going to say? _Kinda a pity_?!" he snapped, sounding angrier than he actually intended it, but it was too late to back out of it now.

Pepper huffed.

"I'm not being any less compassionate about this than you ever have been!" she said angrily.

Adam took a step back in surprise, and for a brief moment his feelings cooled down. But they came back with twice the energy right after.

"Do you think I haven't felt guilty about all of this?!"

"It seems like." She shrugged once again. Adam hated how calm she was. "I haven't seen you even wanting to apologize _once_."

"I- he started it!"

They stared at each other silently for a while, before Pepper finally sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she finally said. "Enjoy your Halloween."

After that she just picked up a faster pace and left Adam by himself in the corridor.

He looked around his surroundings, the anger still flowing through his entire body.

A couple of ghosts floated through the corridor, giving him surprised looks, to which he only glared in response. The evening rain outside turned into a full-blown storm and lighting struck, illuminating the inside of the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ghost Night was looking, in short, beautiful. When Aziraphale first entered the Great Hall, he had to take a step back just to admire all the decorations in all of their glory.

He wasn't really a person to like spooky things, to be fair. The world around him was scary enough, he didn't really see the appeal of making it even scarier. But the lovely decorations around, the warm colours that now coated the interior, and, most importantly, the heavenly smell of the freshly prepared Halloween dinner, with the heavy pumpkin scent taking over the rest of all the smells, definitely made it up for him.

The evening seemed perfect. Well, almost perfect.

Crowley was nowhere to be found. His seat, right by Aziraphale's side remained empty for the whole dinner.

It surprised Aziraphale how much he cared. He hadn't come to Hogwarts expecting to make any actual connections. For the longest time he wouldn't say that Crowley was much more than an acquaintance, yet here he was. He missed Crowley, missed his snarky remarks he'd mutter about others, how he let Aziraphale just babble to him about nothing to no end, and how after their final meal he'd raise an eyebrow and ask Aziraphale, if maybe he had some time to spare, 'cause he had some drinks in his room. Aziraphale would eventually agree, and then they'd both spend the evening together in one of their offices.

But tonight there was no one at his side, throughout the entire feast. Aziraphale found himself quite miserable, eating by himself without a friendly face to turn to.

As he exited the Great Hall, he decided, however, to _not_ go pay Crowley a visit.

Crowley has been working hard to figure out what had gotten to the first year, poor thing, and Aziraphale imagined he spent the few hours of free time provided by Halloween just at that. Besides, he could always explain it to Aziraphale later, as long as Aziraphale would ask.

That's why Aziraphale didn't bother to even look in the direction of Crowley's office and headed straight for his own room.

So, _of course_, something had to happen. Hogwarts didn't just let you rest like that.

Aziraphale focused on the tall windows and the rain hitting against the glass. He heard some kids singing in the other corridors, and even something that sounded like a scream.

But what caught his attention was a familiar, high-pitches laugh.

Peeves.

Aziraphale immediately stopped walking and listened carefully.

Peeves has been grim for almost the entire time since the incident where for _some_ reason Aziraphale scared him. Not only that, he became see-through, looking more like an actual ghost than ever. No one knew what caused him to act and look like this, but no one bothered to investigate- it _was_ Peeves, after all.

But now, behind the corner of the wall where Aziraphale stood, the poltergeist laughed, while probably hovering above the staircase, judging by the echo.

"Peevesssss!" someone hissed. Well, not just someone. It was Crowley. "Give them back!"

Peeves just laughed in response.

Aziraphale breathed in deeply, and decided to slowly, silently, peer behind the corner at the scene.

It was indeed Crowley and the poltergeist.

Crowley was holding tightly the stone railing with one hand, and stretching the other out, angry expression on his face. There was something about it that threw Aziraphale off, and he needed a moment before realizing- Crowley wasn't wearing his sunglasses! He still couldn't see his eyes, however, as he kept them tightly shut.

The sunglasses quickly appeared in Aziraphale's field of vision- Peeves was holding them in his hand and waving above his own head.

"I wonder how loud they'll break and crash!"

"Peevesssss!"

"You could always open your eyes and see~" The poltergeist sang and played with the glasses.

Aziraphale looked between the pair. He dug a wand from deep in his pocket and gripped it tightly in his hand. He didn't think about what he was doing at all. After all, barely did any magic ever.

But he saw the distress in Crowley's face, heard it in his voice and lisp, and he knew he had to do something.

"Accio," he whispered under his breath, staring at the sunglasses.

The glasses tugged in Peeves' hand a little, but they didn't even fly out.

They did, however, make Peeves turn to his direction. His eyes widened and he laughed out loud, the high pitched sound echoing through what seemed like the entire castle.

"Look at that!" he screeched. "The Squib Fell tried some magic!"

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked immediately, turning his head to face about the same direction as Peeves.

_"Ouch,"_ thought Aziraphale.

Peeves floated towards him, though still above the stairway. "What, you wanna help your weird little friend? Well, how about you try to accio _that_!"

He chucked the sunglasses down and disappeared into thin air with a "_POP!_" sound.

"No!" Aziraphale ran to the stairs, but it was too late. He didn't even get to see the glasses, but he heard them smash against the floor.

Crowley stood next to him, his eyes still closed shut. He definitely heard the glasses fall, he had to. But he didn't even say a word- he just let out a long, sad sigh.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I thought I could be of some help, I know how important your glasses are to you, and oh, I should have known-"

"Aziraphale," Crowley cut in. "It's fine. Really. This son of a-" he groaned and pinched his forehead. "He'd probably have dropped them anyways. It's kinda a miracle he somehow never did it before."

They stood for a moment in silence, and without even realizing it, Aziraphale studied his face; something he never got to do before, since almost half of it was covered by his giant pair of sunglasses.

The features that were normally obscured from him were just as sharp as the rest of his face. His eyebrows were neat and symmetrical and his eyes had beautiful, long eyelashes. The tattoo on his temple as finally fully displayed- it was a small image of a curling snake, but only now did Aziraphale notice how intricate and detailed it was, with all the individual scales drawn.

Even though it was dark around, Aziraphale could still see how Crowley's skin around his eyes was ever so slightly purple- a result of the constant work on the remedy, he figured.

He could probably stare at his face to notice new details for the entire night, but Crowley cleared his throat.

"Could you then, um," he started, his voice less sure than usual. "Do me a favour?"

"Of course."

"If you could lead me to my office, that'd be great." Every word Crowley said was quieter and faster.

Aziraphale nodded, then realized Crowley was not able to see that. A little awkwardly, he put his hand on Crowley's arm. Crowley's whole body tensed at first, but he soon relaxed under Aziraphale's touch.

"Let's go, then, shall we?" Aziraphale said, hoping he'd sound calm enough to calm Crowley down as well.

Crowley breathed in deeply and nodded. "Yeah."

He turned towards Aziraphale, eyes still closed. "I guess I got some explaining to do, don't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author appreciates all the comments and tries to reply to most!


	12. The Gray Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact this chapter is one of the first ideas I got for this fic like over a year ago!!! I was very anxious to write it because of that djfhdh

Crowley gripped his arm tightly, probably tighter than anyone ever has. His eyes stayed shut.

Aziraphale didn't know what to make out of this situation. Was Crowley blind? Certainly not, at least not fully, since he had never shown any problems with, for example, getting around or writing before. Did he have some sight problems? That wasn't impossible, especially since he did wear his sunglasses at all times- maybe they also provided some correction. But then why'd he keep his eyes so tightly shut without them? Aziraphale's sight wasn't the best anymore either, but that didn't mean he stopped looking completely if his trusty little glasses weren't on his nose.

He decided he should say something. The problem was, he had no idea where to start.

"So, Peeves is out and about again, isn't he?"

"Looks like it," Crowley groaned and leaned against him. They were never so close to each other before- Aziraphale has never been so close to _anyone_, ever- and Aziraphale found himself not knowing what to do. Should he hold Crowley as tight? Wrap his arm around him? Straighten his back?

Aziraphale took a deep breath.

"Why can't you open your eyes?" He finally mustered up the courage.

"Not here. I'll tell you in my office. Walls have ears. Well, not walls. Owls have ears. Do owls have ears? Must do. So they can hear other owls."

Aziraphale looked around, only to find no owls around them at all. Still, he decided it was better not to press Crowley into answering it all right now. Having him get mad or angry would _not_ make this whole endeavor easier, thank you very much.

"We're going to go up the stairs now," he said as softly as he could when they reached the closest staircase to Crowley's office.

That was it. They just needed to climb that one and Crowley would- hopefully- reveal what was the whole deal with Peeves and his glasses.

Crowley took careful steps; his one hand still gripped on Aziraphale's arm and the other leaned against the marble railing. He stayed silent, probably focusing on his steps, and Aziraphale decided not to speak either- he didn't want him to fall, after all.

So, of course the building of Hogwarts itself decided to mess with them at this very moment.

The stairs first shook gently, then they shook some more, until finally departing from the wall and turning away from where they've pointed before and moving to another landing. Crowley groaned.

"Oh, come on! Tell me we're not actually moving right now."

"I would tell you that," Aziraphale responded. "But that would be lying."

The moment the stairwell reached its' final destination, Aziraphale grabbed his arm and led him upstairs, much less gentle than before. After all, who knew where would the stairs turn to next.

"So," Crowley asked after they arrived at the platform, rubbing his arm where Aziraphale squeezed him. "Got any ideas about where are we right now?"

Aziraphale didn't answer, too busy staring at the spiraling stairs in front of them. They looked familiar. Too familiar, even.

Memories flooded his brain, and he thought he probably should have visited this part of the castle earlier, to avoid surprise when he'd just arrive by the front of a tower entrance. A surprise like this one.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley spoke again, less sure now.

It wasn't just any tower they stood in front of, oh no.

It was the entrance to the tower Aziraphale called his home for seven years.

He placed his hand on the stone arch that marked it. Passing this arch meant going back home, up the stairs to the door with a handle that asked you riddles. it meant going back to his safe space after months spent with his family.

They stood before the entrance of the Ravenclaw tower.

"Is everything alright?" Crowley asked again.

Aziraphale once more made his previous mistake of nodding before realizing Crowley couldn't actually see him now. "U-uh, yes of course, I am. Tip top. Tickety-boo."

"What?"

"If you could just give me a minute." He didn't even wait for Crowley to answer and walked onto the stairs.

He remembered everything about this path. The thin, long windows, showing the stars of the night sky (or, in today's case, the dark clouds), the fire torches, stuck in the metal holders by the wall, the heavy doors that were inevitably somewhere in front of him, at the other end of the stairs, and the familiar gray, see-through figure he was bound to notice any moment now.

Sure enough, he did.

She stood by one of the windows, staring at the spectacle of light and sound the storm has caused. Aziraphale slowed down his pace. He didn't make any sound, but the ghost still somehow heard him, as she looked away from the window and directly at him.

She floated inches above the stairs, moving towards him slowly, and only stopped once they faced each other.

"You've changed," the Grey Lady said instead of a greeting.

Aziraphale couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips and shrugged.

"Living tend to do that."

The ghost stared at him for a moment, before her cold expression also turned into a shy smile.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again, Aziraphale Fell."

If she were still a living human, he'd probably walk up to her and give her a tight hug, the kind anyone would give to their best friend whom they haven't seen in years. Instead he just straightened his back and played with a loose thread of his robe's sleeve.

"Same to you, Helena Ravenclaw."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Being the only non-prodigy in a family with just prodigies wasn't the easiest. From his youngest years, even before Hogwarts, his family made it clear that he wasn't meeting their standards of being the most talented, charismatic and magically gifted golden child. His mother always said, Fells expected nothing more than perfection.

It was embarrassing enough how long it took him to display magic.

Gabriel, for as long as Aziraphale remembered, could make random objects random objects float, freeze water and melt ice, turn partially invisible, and do all kinds of amazing things their mother relentlessly praised him for.

Aziraphale, well... One time when his further relatives came for a visit, he overheard his mother talking with his uncle.

"So is he, you know..." his uncle whispered. "A squib?"

His mother sighed.

"Honestly," she said, looking around carefully. "I'd prefer for him to actually die than to be one."

Aziraphale never eavesdropped on anyone ever since.

At first Hogwarts didn't turn out to be much of a saving grace, either. He really hoped it would- after all, hey, he was nowhere near Gabriel's level in abilities, but at least he'll go to the same school, probably the same house as well, and, under his guidance, could find success in the Wizarding World in the future.

So, of course, Aziraphale turned out to be the first Fell in their whole family history to not be sorted into Gryffindor.

Every single morning he sat between his fellow Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, he thought he'd get a Howler from his mother. But he never did. She picked up a new strategy- for around three months, which seemed like forever, she completely and utterly pretended her younger son didn't exist.

The first letter that came to him was around Christmas time, where his mother wanted if he might want to return home for the holiday.

Gabriel was treating him similarly, though in Aziraphale's mind it seemed even worse. Aziraphale stayed invisible for his brother for the first couple of months, and when that got boring... Well, it's safe to say Gabriel was putting in the most effort to make Aziraphale's life that much harder to bare.

Magic was never Aziraphale's strong suit. Theory and knowledge was what he liked. But defending himself from his older brother and his group of Gryffindor friends- not so much. They'd wait for him to be by himself, like in the bathroom, and then attack him with the weirdest, most brutal assortment of dueling spells, and when those became boring they started attacking him with kicks and punches.

He wasn't sure what was worse- being attacked with the most painful spells when he was alone, or the "gentler" ones, but around other students.

Honestly, it was most likely the second one, actually- it was the humiliation that got to him.

It seemed like there was no place anywhere where he could truly belong, no person to ever show that they cared for him.

That was, until he met Helena Ravenclaw.

The Ravenclaw house ghost was the shyest one of all Hogwarts house ghosts. Some students never actually saw her.

'_But hey, it's always better than what the Slytherins have,_' his housemates would laugh.

But, for some reason, she never hid away from him, ever since their first meeting.

It was the beginning of Aziraphale's second year at Hogwarts. At this point Aziraphale was aware there wouldn't be much of a change of how he was being treated, but he still kept on hoping. Although, as one could imagine, from very September Gabriel decided to prove that no, not a thing would be different from the previous year.

At that moment twelve year old Aziraphale was sitting in the rounded stairs leading up to Ravenclaw tower, trying his very best to not cry (which proved hard, as tears kept on piling in the corners of his eyes) as he worked on whatever happened to his poor wand. It wasn't broken, thank God, but the very bottom of it got flimsy- all thanks to Gabriel first magically expelling it from his hand, and then taking it and dropping down the stairs. His family could afford ten wands, but he knew that his mother would kill him if she found out.

"It's just the tip; the rest of the wand should be working just fine," someone above him spoke.

Aziraphale jumped.

She was tall and pale, dressed in well-fitted, feet length robes, that looked like something out of a history book. Her hair was raven black, with different kinds of jewelry combed into the intricate plaids in her hairstyle. Most importantly, though, she floated above the ground and the rest of the tower in the background was visible through her see-through body. The body was also grey, a different colour from all the other ghosts in the castle, which came in all shades of blue.

"The Grey Lady," Aziraphale finally managed to stutter, stunned by the sight of the ghost speaking to him, with tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes.

"Helena is fine, dear," she said. Her face, before so cold and collected, now broke into a warm smile. "And you..," she continued, sitting on the step beside him, "...often come here to hide with your books, aren't I correct?"

This was the start of what possibly was the least expected friendship in the castle.

The Grey Lady hardly ever showed herself to most, yet for some reason she chose to speak with Aziraphale almost every day he spent in the school. Some days they wouldn't actually talk, but she'd sit next to him in the staircase, reading his books with him, or watching him complete his assignments.

She'd always patiently listen to Aziraphale's sobbing about his brother's wrongdoings, and while she couldn't actually help him (she was just a wisp of light), he always took her advices to heart.

In some way, Helena Ravenclaw, the long dead daughter of the founder of the house herself, became Aziraphale Fell's most home-like experience ever.

At his family house, his mother was distanced from him. He wasn't exactly the son she deserved. At school, he wasn't particularly recognized by other kids, apart from Gabriel and his gang. In class, while he was by no mean a bad student, with his exceptional grades and attendance, most teachers did not really care about him.

But Helena was always there. Every year she'd say how much taller he got (when he didn't really, but it was still a nice thing to hear), or she'd compliment the new frames of his glasses.

Every year she said "You've changed."

"Living tend to do that," he always replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I didn't think you'd ever come back," she said to him now.

Aziraphale looked around them, still smiling. "I teach here now. Can you believe it?"

"Why, of course. You are one of the smartest wizards Ravenclaw has housed, after all."

He needed to second to blink and let the ghost's words sink in. Being so far away from really the only person that has been kind, maybe too kind, for him, he grew unused to compliments.

"Well, if _you_ say so..."

Something behind them moved. First Aziraphale heard a rumble, then a crash, and then finally a loud swear.

Crowley.

Right. He still had to guide him to his office. In the midst of being flooded with memories about the Grey Lady and his own past, Aziraphale almost forgot about all of that.

"Ah, well, you see, this is, this is- my- well, Crowley."

Crowley slowly climbed upon the stairs, leaning by the wall and limping slightly. His eyes still remained shut.

"Next time just throw me down the stairs and leave to rot, will you?" he hissed.

Helena floated back a bit, she looked scared all of the sudden- her eyes were wide, and Aziraphale could swear she somehow got even more pale.

"Who is he?" she whispered in a trembling voice.

Crowley was just standing there, eyes closed, but now his mouth was opened slightly, not making him look too intelligent, to be honest.

"Who is _that_?" he muttered, waving his head around, as if trying to actually see her.

"He works here, too," Aziraphale offered to Helena. He still kept a soft smile on his face, but the feeling of nervousness appeared in his chest already. While it was typical of the Gray Lady to get apprehensive around others, there was something off about this reaction of her... Aziraphale couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"Who are you talking to?" Crowley asked, still as confused as ever.

"Helena Ravenclaw, Crowley. The Gray Lady."

Crowley furrowed his brows and lifted his upper lip.

"You've endangered my life to talk to a ghost? Come on." He searched for Aziraphale's hand and grabbed it, pulling him with himself.

Aziraphale followed, reluctantly, but he turned around to face Helena one more time. She continued standing in her previous spot, with the same scared look as she had before.

"I've met people just like your friend in my life. Watch out. Serpents only bring pain."

Aziraphale's leg froze in the middle of a step. His mind raced. Serpents. The Basilisk. Parseltongue. How did she even know that? He wanted to ask her about all of these, but Crowley stubbornly dragged him out of the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
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> This author appreciates all comments and tries to reply to most!


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